


Honeycomb

by betts



Series: Honeycomb [1]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Artist Hux, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bottom Ben Solo, Branding, Codependency, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom Hux, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Han & Leia's A+ Parenting, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Hurting Ben Solo for Fun and Pleasure, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Infidelity, Just Regular Crying, M/M, Masochism, No Aftercare, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Objectification, Poe Is a Good Bro, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Really A Lot Of Crying, Recreational Drug Use, Sadism, Sexting, Sexual Coercion, Sub Ben, Subdrop, Sugar Daddy, Under-negotiated Kink, Unhealthy Relationships, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, erotic crying, the author had to duct tape the mouth of her conscience shut to write this, there's no room for guilt when you open your heart to sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 47,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betts/pseuds/betts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know a guy.” Poe always knew a guy. He knew a lot of guys. He had a guy for everything.</p><p>“A guy,” Ben replied.</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“Who can do what?”</p><p>“Oh, you know, this and that. Got a lot of money, a little time. You know how it goes.”</p><p>Ben was beginning to feel like maybe he was the stoned one. “I really don’t.”</p><p>Poe leaned forward on his elbows, charming crooked grin lighting up his handsome features, the kind of smile that won over everybody who crossed his path. “You give him a little time, he’ll give you a little money.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Honeycomb](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11866875) by [Crazy_Maestro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_Maestro/pseuds/Crazy_Maestro), [fandom_Kylux_2017 (fandom_Kylux_2016)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_Kylux_2016/pseuds/fandom_Kylux_2017)



> I don't know what I'm doing with my life.

_When honey bees go shopping_  
_it's something to be seen._  
_They swarm to wild flowers_  
_and get nectar for the queen._  
_And everything you bring me_  
_got me dripping like a honeycomb_  
_and if you've got some sugar for me,_  
_Sugar Daddy, bring it home._

 _—_ "Sugar Daddy" from  _Hedwig and the Angry Inch_

* * *

“This is insane,” Ben said. “I’m not fucking paying this.”

“I understand, sir,” said the nice woman with a thick accent over the phone. “However I’m going to have to ask you to refrain from using profanities--”

“I’ll use whatever fucking profanities I fucking want to, okay? You’re charging me three hundred dollars in overdraft fees.” His hands shook, so he gripped his desk until his knuckles turned white. “You get that this is extortion, right? You understand why this country is falling apart. We need strict federal regulation--”

“Federal regulation regarding this issue has already been put in place, sir. Regulation E states clients can opt out of overdraft via POS purchases--”

“Why didn’t you tell me that two weeks ago?!” Ben shouted. He bit his tongue and took a calming breath to keep from flying off the handle.

“All clients were informed of the change in early 2012, sir. You should have received notification in the mail, however to initiate the automatic decline option, you had to have come into a branch and set up the change.”

2012\. His bank account was still his mother’s responsibility back then. Ben didn’t know shit about money when he was a teenager. He still didn’t know shit about money, and he certainly didn’t have any of it in order to learn. Not anymore, anyway.

He sighed. “Just…” He clenched his jaw so tight his teeth hurt. “Opt out. And will you _please_ …” His voice wavered with rage. This would normally be the time when his mother would chastise him into putting a lid on his temper. “...consider a partial refund.” _Partial refund_ was a phrase he’d googled before he bothered calling the customer service line. The words tasted bitter on his tongue. “This is my first... _offense_ , and I would like you to take that into consideration.”

“All right, sir,” said the service lady, “I am able to refund fifty percent of your fees, and I have set your account to opt out of overdraft.”

“Thank you,” Ben said, only mildly calmed.

“Please be advised that you can still overdraw your account via ATM and check purchases.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Have a good evening, sir.”

He hung up without another word, slammed his phone on the table so hard the damn thing would have broken were it not for the expensive rage-proof case his mother insisted he keep for such occasions as this. His chest felt tight. He didn’t have a hundred and fifty dollars to pay in fees. He didn’t even have that much for next month’s rent. At this rate, he was going to be out on the street. Or worse, on Poe Dameron’s goddamn couch. Again.

Rey entered their tiny living room and leaned against a wall, her tongue delicately trailing the edge of a roll paper. As she twisted the joint, she said, “You won’t end up on the street.”

She was always fucking reading his mind. It was so annoying. “What else am I going to do? The market won’t give me more hours, I barely sleep as it is, and I’m balls-deep in homework.”

She shrugged. “You could always ask for help from dearest Auntie Leia.”

Ben laughed, loud and mirthless. “Mom would kill me for this. She’d give me the money and lord it over my head for all eternity, then pay my tuition and make me change majors.”

“To her credit, a history degree is quite useless.”

“History is not _useless_. Business is useless.”

Rey lit her joint with a beat-up Zippo and took a hit. “Finn’s coming over later.” Breath still held in, she handed it to Ben and added, “Mario Kart?”

***

Ben’s eyes fell shut. He opened them again as he tried vainly to concentrate on chapter sixteen of a history textbook that he would have rather purchased by severing a limb. Loud crashing and excited shouting emanated from the living room, where Finn, Rey, and Poe enthusiastically attempted to destroy each other’s little cartoon cars. The whole apartment reeked of weed and pizza grease.

Ben should have never gone to college.

A knock on his door woke him from his doze, and he sat up from where he was propped against a wall. “Come in.”

Poe entered, wearing a neon pink tank top and board shorts like some surfer bro reject from a 1987 Sears catalog.

“Hey, buddy!” he said, helping himself to Ben’s desk chair. “Heard you’re having a rough time,” he added, picking up a stress ball and tossing it into the air.

“Rey needs to mind her own business.”

“Nah, it wasn’t her. Heard you all the way downstairs.” He propped his feet on Ben’s bed and kept his eye on the ball. “You know I can help you out.”

“I’m not selling drugs, Poe.”

“No, man, I know. You’re way too...” He caught the ball and made a wavy hand gesture. “High strung.”

“Then how can you help?”

“I know a guy.” Poe always knew a guy. He knew a lot of guys. He had a guy for everything.

“A guy,” Ben replied.

“Yep.”

“Who can do what?”

“Oh, you know, this and that. Got a lot of money, a little time. You know how it goes.”

Ben was beginning to feel like maybe he was the stoned one. “I really don’t.”

Poe leaned forward on his elbows, charming crooked grin lighting up his handsome features, the kind of smile that won over everybody who crossed his path. “You give him a little time, he’ll give you a little money.”

“You’re not suggesting…”

“The future is now, bro. Relationships are tough. Dude’s a busy man looking for a one-stop shop, that’s all.”

“How,” Ben said, a statement of disbelief more than an actual question. “How do you _happen_ to know ‘a guy’ who wants to pay someone like me for...” He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Poe bit his bottom lip, a horrible seductive habit on his part that got him into too much trouble, which he then dragged everyone else into. “You’re young. You’re hot. You’re smart. You got your shit together. You’re right up this guy’s alley.” He stood and took out his wallet, then handed Ben a business card. “He doesn’t like phone calls. Text him.”

Ben looked at the card. _Brendol Hux II_ in a plain serif font followed by a phone number. He turned it around. Blank.

Despite the disdain and desperation roiling in his gut, Ben's curiosity got the better of him.

***

Two-oh-five p.m., in Ben’s educated opinion, was the best time for business communication. After lunch but prior to the end of the workday. Past the hour so as to not look too intentionally scheduled.

Ben sat on a bench outside the market on his break, staring down at his phone and the text message he’d spent all day crafting.

 _Mr. Hux,_ it read _, Your number was given to me by a mutual acquaintance who informed me you are currently looking to hire. I am interested in the details of this position, and I look forward to hearing from you. --Ben Solo_

As the clock ticked to the fifth minute, Ben hit Send.

The phone number shifted from green to blue. Ben watched the bar as it made its way across the screen and the word _delivered_ appeared below the message. He read it a dozen more times until the words bled of all meaning.

By the time his break ended, his battery was worn down by ten percent. He silenced his phone and shoved it in his pocket, refusing to feel disappointed.

***

Ben’s phone vibrated three hours later while he was on his knees stocking soup cans. He glanced up and down the aisle, bereft of patrons, and pulled out his phone. Hux’s number appeared--Ben still hadn’t entered him as a contact, thinking it would jinx the situation--and he slid open the text message.

_Thank you for your interest, Mr. Solo. So neither of us waste our time, I would like to first request your picture._

Short. To the point. Ben could respect that. And if this Hux person was really seeking what Poe implied, a picture made sense, though without specifications, Ben was slightly at a loss. He scrolled through his photos--all the broken stuff in Rey’s and his apartment from when they moved in that the landlord would probably try to charge them for later, a dozen or so from when Rey stole his phone and took overly artful pictures of furniture corners and spans of ugly carpeting, a few of her smiling (“To cheer you up when you’re sad,” she said, and god, he hated her nearly as much as he loved her).

The picture he chose was dated by a year or so, when his hair had finally grown out to the length he’d always wanted it but that his mother had never allowed. He wasn’t smiling and the lighting was sub-par, but it got the idea across.

He sent it to Mr. Hux without a caption.

 _Thank you for your expedience,_ Hux replied moments later. _Are you at a place where you might answer some questions for me?_

Shit. No, Ben wasn’t. But he was due for another break, so he rushed to the front and clocked out. On the way to his bench, he replied, _Yes._

 _Excellent_ , Hux said. _Age? Occupation? Sexual orientation?_

 _21\. Student._ He hesitated at the next question. He’d never told anyone before, maybe because no one ever asked, or maybe everyone just knew. He supposed it wasn’t relevant anyway, given that he’d never dated anyone. Or kissed anyone. Or done really anything at all. Not that he hadn’t had the opportunity, he always told himself; it was that he lacked interest.

He finally typed _Bisexual_ and hit Send.

_A student of what?_

Hux had neither commented on his picture nor his orientation, and Ben could feel a small nagging of irritation creeping at the back of his mind. Though he had nothing to base it on, he expected this transaction to be slightly more...lascivious.

_History._

_Quite a broad topic. What parts of history?_

_The Roman Empire. Namely the Constantinian dynasty._

Ben’s fingers itched to go into further detail, but he restrained himself and waited for the next question.

_What is your schedule like?_

The nagging of irritation swelled at the lack of response in regard to his studies. He thought Hux might be impressed or inquire further, personalize the exchange in some way. Ben navigated through his understanding of society by using strict behavioral schemas. This was neither an interview nor a friendly conversation, which left it in the vast tundra of uncertainty that historically sent Ben into fits of rage.

He managed to restrain himself and replied, _I work part-time during the day MWF. Classes TTh. Weekends and evenings off._

_I see. Here is my proposal:_

Ben leaned forward on the bench. His hands trembled as he watched the ellipses fade across their little bubble.

_We may begin a short probationary period wherein I will send you packages as I see fit. Upon arrival of those packages, I will ask mostly benign requests of you. Regardless of the result of the probationary period, you may keep the gifts. If you perform my requests well, you will be tipped for your service. I will only reach you during working hours that you may set based on your schedule and that you may change as needed. Are you amenable?_

Ben read the text over and over again. Something wasn’t clicking for him.

_May I ask a question?_

_You may, and thank you for seeking permission first._

_What do you get out of this?_

_A reasonable inquiry, though one that I would like to remain personal at this time. If not understanding my perspective bothers you, perhaps we should not move forward._

Ben’s heart leapt into his throat. _No, I was just curious. It’s fine._

_In that case, if I may have your email address, I will send you a short form to look over and a small signing bonus._

_May I ask another question?_

_You may._

_What should I call you?_

_“Sir.” For now._

This was the most confusing conversation Ben had ever had, over text or otherwise, but his whole body felt flush with the sexual undertones teeming beneath the surface, if Poe’s implications led Ben to the correct conclusion anyway. It was...dirty. Wrong. Thrilling.

 _Thank you, sir,_ Ben replied, followed by his email address.

***

When Ben got home from work, he had an email waiting for him from Mr. Hux with several attachments, one of which was a disclosure agreement. There was a form asking for his working hours, his address, his preferences for food and the like, and his measurements. He was also invited to make an Amazon wishlist-- _for incentive compensation_ , Hux explained.

As soon as Ben filled everything out and sent it back, within minutes he had an email notifying him of fifty dollars sent to his PayPal account with a message that read, simply, _Thank you for your time today. I look forward to learning more about you._

Ben’s stomach flipped a little. That single sentence was like dunking his hand in lukewarm water after walking a mile in a blizzard. No one had ever expressed interest in him before, let alone enough to pay him just for being himself. The small voice in the back of his mind that sounded strangely like his mother warned him to be wary of this arrangement, but the other voice, the one that sounded like his father, said something like, “Give it a shot. What’ve you got to lose?”

Not much, Ben considered. A cousin-slash-best-friend, otherwise known as the only person alive who could tolerate him for long periods of time (and whom he could tolerate in turn). A mattress. Some second-hand furniture.

In the grand scheme of things that could go horribly wrong, Mr. Hux seemed like a safe enough bet.

***

“Did you do it?” Rey asked the next morning, mouth full, a textbook open beside her bowl of Lucky Charms.

Ben padded into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Do what?”

“Contact the guy.”

“The guy?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Benjamin. Poe’s guy.”

“Poe’s got a lot of guys.”

“The guy who wants to give you money.” When Ben didn’t reply, Rey added, “In exchange for--”

“All right, we don’t know that yet, okay?”

“So you _did_ contact him.”

“I might’ve.” Ben sat down across from her and took a gulp.

“I always knew you’d make a great sugar baby one day.”

He nearly spit. After a hard swallow that scalded his throat, he asked, “Why would you have ever thought that?”

She shrugged and took another bite of cereal. “You’re always seeking other people’s approval to validate your self-worth. You’ve got phenomenal DSL. You’re masculine, but not in a particularly threatening way unless you’re angry. And you have this...aura about you.”

“What kind of aura?”

Rey thought on it. “Like you’ve got too much soul inside your body, and any minute the careful balance of you might come crashing down. And who knows what that would look like. It’s quite intoxicating.” She pointed her spoon at him. “Adventuresome people appreciate that about you.”

Ben stared at her, stunned. “Do you do this to other people?”

“Do what?”

“Analyze them until their entire reality is shattered and they no longer know up from down.”

Rey lifted her bowl and slurped down the remaining milk, then she wiped her chin with the back of her hand. “No. Most people know themselves well enough that my analysis has no bearing on their self-perspective, therefore I don’t feel the need to share it.”

Before Ben could reply, Rey stood from the table and grabbed her messenger bag from the floor. She stopped and kissed his forehead on her way out. “I love you. Have a good day. Send Mr. Sugar my regards.”

***

Another full day passed without any word from Hux. Periodically Ben looked at the fifty dollars in his PayPal account to make sure it hadn’t been taken away somehow, even though he hadn’t touched it. As soon as he moved it into his bank account, he was sure it would send him into a spiral of questioning his integrity.

The following day, Ben signed for a large box. Thankfully Rey wasn’t home, so he had some privacy to open it. He’d been torturing himself over what “gifts” Hux would send him, and even went so far as to think about the kinds of things--of a sexual nature, namely--he’d enjoy or decline. He was surprised to find that very little bothered him, though now that a box full of mystery contents lay on his bed, he wasn’t nearly as confident.

He opened the box. On top of packaging material rested a blank envelope, which he picked up and opened. Inside was a short, typed letter that read:

_Mr. Solo,_

_Enclosed you will find a camera, a tripod, and a suit. Please wear the suit and take several photographs of yourself, then email them to me by midnight this evening._

_\--B. Hux_

Ben pulled out the packaging material to find a professional grade tripod and DSLR camera with a lens kit. Below it was a larger white box, which Ben took out carefully and opened.

The suit inside was black with a white undershirt and a black tie. He hadn’t worn a suit since his grandpa’s funeral when he was thirteen. As he thumbed over the fabric, he contemplated sending Hux a thank you text message, but since the letter didn’t indicate he needed to, he didn’t. For once, he felt his compulsions toward taking things too literally would be a benefit to him.

It took hours to figure out how to use the camera, which he refused to take out of the box until he’d read the manual in full. He set up the tripod and took a few test shots, downloaded them to his computer, and inspected the image quality.

He wondered if the ingenuity of the photograph had any bearing on the amount of his “tip,” and he wished he’d been given more detailed instruction. He wasn’t an artist. He had no eye for aesthetics. And as far as he was concerned, he was one of the least attractive people he or anyone else had ever known.

He stared at the contents of the box strewn over his bed, utterly overwhelmed, and for a moment considered texting Hux that the deal was off, he couldn’t do this, he’d return the fifty dollars and the gifts and apologize for wasting everyone’s time. These kinds of relationships--Rey’s voice echoing the term “sugar baby” rattling in his head--were for Pinterest girls with long legs and flirty smiles, or twink boys who did amateur webcam porn on the side, not gangly pseudo-historians with a bad temper and worse social anxiety.

He spotted the overdraft notification lying at the corner of his desk, a singular plain and unassuming piece of paper informing him that he wouldn’t be able to afford food this month unless he either sunk low enough to ask his mother for help, or…

Take a stupid picture of himself.

He took a deep breath. He could do this.

***

The suit fit perfectly, and he looked at himself in Rey’s full-length mirror (careful not to step on the clothes and other pieces of who-knew-what strewn about her floor). With his hair slightly styled and his posture straight, he looked...good. Handsome, even. Respectable. Someone Brendol Hux II would be proud to hire for more consistent work.

After the first round of pictures, he got into the swing of things. The lighting was all wrong for the first few test shots, so he took every lamp from the living room and placed them strategically in his bedroom with the shades tilted. He lifted his mattress against the wall and draped a sheet over it to use as a backdrop, then retrieved one of the stools from the kitchen to sit on, figuring it might make the shot more dynamic than if he were just standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

The second round was surprisingly fun, seeing his product improve with every shot, experimenting with focus and shutter speed and ISO. He’d never made anything beautiful before, especially nothing where the object of the beauty was supposed to be himself. He’d always taken a different kind of approach to life--observe what exists, but never touch it. Making beautiful things upset the careful balance of the world. It changed history, little by little, one snap of the shutter at a time, a flick of a paintbrush, a stroke of a typewriter. It was Ben’s job to observe history, not make it.

Before he knew it, his warning alarm went off to let him know it was eleven and that he needed to evaluate his pictures. It didn’t take him as long as he expected; the best ones were obvious and the rest he deleted. He ended up with half a dozen, two of which he used the photo software that came with the camera to turn black and white.

What took even longer was staring at the blinking cursor trying to figure out what to say. The pictures were attached, the email addressed. The subject line read, _Photographs_.

At a quarter till, he settled on, _Thank you for the gifts, sir. I hope the photographs are to your liking. Please let me know how I may be of additional service. Sincerely, Ben_

He read the email over a few times, deleted the _sir_ but then added it back again. He glanced at the clock at five till, took a breath, and hit Send.  
 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing in this fic is okay. This is sin of the highest order. Just in case the tags don't illustrate that clearly enough.

The next morning, Ben woke to a PayPal email notifying him of a hundred dollar payment. The note with it read, _Exceeded expectations on multiple levels. Very good._

Ben read it over and over. The money barely registered to him. He was tempted to text Hux and ask exactly what he did right, but he didn’t want to seem overeager, nor did he want to beg for praise. Hux made it very clear he’d have to earn it. Which was fair; they had a strict arrangement.

But what stuck with him through the rest of the day was the “on multiple levels.” What did that mean? Was he referring to Ben’s appearance or the quality of the pictures? Or both? Or something else? It was driving him crazy.

Later, in an empty bathroom after his first class, he felt mildly ridiculous taking a picture of himself, not that Hux had asked him to, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to have it on hand. Feeling like a disgusting stereotype of everything he hated, he managed to find a mildly pleasing angle through his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t smile, and the end result looked like he was trying too hard to concentrate on his own image, but he didn’t have time to take another. He could delete it later.

He put his phone on silent and booked it to class.

Dr. Snoke glared at him as Ben entered the room and took a seat by the door.

“Good of you to join us, Mr. Solo,” Snoke sneered. He gave everyone the creeps, but sometimes Ben wondered if he was a special case. Snoke was his advisor and insisted on meeting with Ben monthly. While Ben had no friends within his major, he got the feeling that Snoke’s careful attention on him was pretty weird, but he chalked it up to having more potential than everyone else. Besides, it made him feel...special. Snoke was a good mentor, and Ben was lucky to have him.

Ben's phone vibrated in his pocket, but every time Ben even shifted in his seat, Snoke’s attention turned on him, so he couldn’t check it.

Class _finally_ ended. Ben closed his notebook and stuffed it in his backpack, but the moment Ben reached for his phone, Snoke said, “Mr. Solo, please see me before you leave.”

Ben managed to sneak a peek at his texts, but it was just Rey. _Dinner tonight? The frozen burritos you like were on sale so I got 2 boxes. Love uuuuuuu xoxoxo_

“Mr. Solo, do take your time.”

Ben tamped down his irritation as he swung his pack over his shoulder and hurried toward the front of the room.

Snoke was an unsightly small man whose face was half-mutilated by what looked like either acid or boiling liquid. There were many rumors as to what caused the deformity, but considering they ranged from “angry ex-wife” to “prison fight,” Ben didn’t put much stock in them. Because of the mutilation, Ben couldn’t begin to guess Snoke’s age; given how he dressed and acted, the regal way he presented himself, Ben would put him at his late fifties. The fear in Snoke’s eyes, however, the self-doubt masked by dry, cruel wit and a quick temper made Ben wonder if he was much younger than he appeared. Either way, it was obvious to both of them that they had far too much in common, so it was no surprise to anyone that Snoke took Ben under his wing.

Snoke pulled out a stapled stack of papers and set it down in front of Ben. Ben recognized his own essay, but there was a brief moment where it obviously couldn’t be his, because it had a large red F on it.

Ben pulled it closer to him, heart pounding out of terror or rage or both. He tried to lift the first page to see what Snoke's comments were, but Snoke shoved it back down and slid the paper away again.

“I expected so much more from you, Ben,” Snoke said in a low, condescending lull.

Ben looked at him, stunned, and asked the first thing that came to mind. “What did I do wrong?”

“It wasn’t what you did _wrong_ so much as your potential versus your actual output. Certainly, this paper was infinitely better than the rest of the class’s work, but you know I hold you to a higher standard.”

“That’s not…” Ben wanted to say _fair_ at the same time he wanted to rip the paper up and set the room on fire.

“If you are to pass this class, I’m going to need to see better quality work from you. You can’t skate by only doing slightly better than your peers when you are capable of so much more than they.”

Ben wracked his mind for how he could have made his essay stronger. Nothing came to mind, so he asked, “How?”

“I suppose,” Snoke began, pulling the paper closer toward him, smooth finger dotted with tobacco stains and topped by an overlong nail, “I could offer you additional instruction and let you rewrite the paper, though I don’t often make exceptions for undergraduates.”

A wave of relief crashed over Ben. “Thank you, Dr. Snoke. Any time that works for you.”

Snoke shoved the paper in his briefcase. “My office hours are often busy. I wouldn’t be able to give you the attention you deserve.” He snapped the briefcase shut. “My house would be better suited.”

“I’m not sure that’s--” Ben began.

“Well, if you don’t want to redo the paper, I’m sure a C in my class won’t affect your GPA _too_ badly.”

Ben felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He would have preferred it to this. After a second’s hesitation wherein he could only imagine the condescending disappointment on his mother’s face, the false empathy as she looked at his grades and would invariably tell him to change to a major that would be worth his time, Ben replied, “When can I come over?”

Dr. Snoke smiled, a strained, ugly thing. “Next Wednesday, seven p.m. I’ll email you the address.”

***

Ben spent the rest of the day trapped in his own head, silently freaking out about failing a paper. Between classes, he reread his entire copy, checked all his sources, and compared it to the last paper he received an A on. He was tempted to show it to Dr. Phasma to see what grade she would have given him, but it seemed back-handed and ungrateful to Snoke, who just wanted Ben to do the best he was capable of. And, he realized, it did make sense for Snoke to grade him on his improvement from paper to paper rather than continually providing the same level of work. You couldn’t achieve greatness if you always did the same thing over and over again; you had to do better, smarter, stronger. Ben had a long way to go, and Snoke was helping him get there.

He walked home later with Finn once his classes were over. He liked Finn despite his association with Poe because Finn didn’t make a habit of pushing Ben’s buttons for fun and profit. Ben was certain Finn didn’t particularly care for him, but it didn’t matter as long as that disdain lent itself to silence.

Ben’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and his stomach lurched in excitement. He pulled it out and read, _Good evening, Mr. Solo. While we are waiting for your next gift to arrive, I’d like to use tonight’s hours for an additional request._

Maybe it was in his head, but Hux sounded...sheepish? Hesitant, at the very least, given the openness of the dialogue. Normally he only communicated in orders or questions, and didn’t leave any topic open for discourse. Ben mostly appreciated the structured dialogue because he wasn’t very good at making conversation anyway.

Ben replied, _Yes, sir?_

While Ben waited for Hux to reply, long seconds stretching out whereas usually Hux responded immediately, Finn said, “Is that the guy?”

“What guy?”

“Poe’s guy.”

Was Ben the only one who recognized that Poe knew everyone on the fucking planet? “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, watching the ellipses rise and fall as Hux typed out a reply.

“Sure,” Finn replied. “But it’s like fifty degrees outside and your face looks like a tomato. So I’m guessing it’s the guy.”

“It’s _a_ guy,” Ben relented. “There is no _the_ guy.”

“Oookay, sasquatch. Whatever you say.”

They reached their apartment building. Finn veered into his first-floor apartment, but paused at the door. “By the way, you still in for the catering thing next month?”

Ben climbed the stairs to his own, attention trained on his phone. “Yeah, sure.”

“Cool,” Finn said, and shut the door to his apartment, which spurred loud yapping from their dryer lint of a dog.

By the time Ben had his key in the door, Hux replied, _At least six more pictures. Same suit. No jacket, no tie, no undershirt. Top three buttons undone. Send to me by midnight tonight._

At this rate, Ben thought, he would be dead by the time Hux got him undressed. What was alarming about this realization was less his willingness to get naked for Hux and more his sudden eagerness.

***

Everything was going great until Rey got home. Ben froze, perched on a stool in his bedroom, when he heard the front door, and grimaced at the distinct flick of a light switch up and down to no avail.

“Benny?” she called, a clatter as she ran into something in the dark. “Where are all the lamps?”

He was fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as she opened his bedroom door. She never knocked, and it bordered on a malicious habit. She always wanted to see what she could catch him doing, and moreover how mad it would make him, convinced there was something wild and dangerous underneath his reserved exterior.

The joke was on her: there wasn’t anything wild about him at all. The worst thing she’d ever caught him doing was watching an episode of _Glee_.

Rey looked around the room, her hand still on the knob. “What are you…ohh. Mr. Sugar wants a photoshoot, eh? Do you need any help?”

“No,” Ben replied, voice tight as he tried to not freak out over how _real_ this all just became in the wake of someone else’s perspective. “I’m good.”

“All right.” She moved to leave but then stopped and added, “You look quite dashing, by the way. Mr. Sugar is a very lucky man.”

She was always so nice to him. It was infuriating. “Thanks.”

“Love you!” she said, and closed the door.

***

Ben was mostly confident in five of the six pics he chose. The sixth one was a dare--he unbuttoned four buttons instead of three. In it, he pulled at the opening of the shirt, exposing his collarbone. The picture cut off above his mouth, where he was biting his lip (just because he didn’t particularly care for Poe didn’t mean he couldn’t learn from him).

This, above all else, made him nervous. He wasn’t sure whether Hux would laud him on his risk-taking, or condemn him for not following orders.

He was too nervous to add any text to the email, so he sent a blank one with the pictures attached a whole hour early. He should have gone to bed immediately after, or at least gotten some reading done, but instead he stared at his email, and his phone, back to his email, back to his phone. He checked his PayPal to see if maybe he received anything and the system hadn’t notified him yet. No dice.

With too much pent up energy to focus or sleep, he settled on making an Amazon wishlist instead, which he had been avoiding because he had no idea what kinds of things he should put on it, what his price range was supposed to be, and how the things he wanted would come across in terms of making a good impression.

So, he put items on it that he really wanted: books. A lot of books. Books he couldn’t afford and were too old or obscure to have eBook copies or PDF torrents available. Special publications of books he’d read from the library a million times. First editions. _Signed_ first editions. Textbooks for classes he knew he’d have to take soon.

He may have gone a little overboard. Even so, he could sleep on it and then decide to use it as a Christmas list instead of sending it to Hux. His mother would appreciate it, but his father would just continue buying him gifts that he’d like for himself, like pocket knives and sci-fi movies Ben had no interest in watching.

By two in the morning, Ben thought he might have calmed enough to go to bed. He received a text message while he was brushing his teeth.

_I appreciate a man who takes risks, though be warned: going forward, the consequences of defiance may not be to your liking._

Ben’s heart raced. _How so, sir?_

 _I am not a nice man,_ Hux typed. _Nor a good one. Give me breadth and I will take it._

Toothbrush poised in his mouth, Ben considered his reply at length. _I am yours for the taking, sir. If you’ll have me._

_Tread carefully, Ben._

_Yes, sir._

_And?_

_Thank you, sir._

Ben brought himself off before bed, thinking of a large, shadowy figure punishing him for his wrongdoings--choking him, pulling his hair, spanking him, calling him derogatory names and then leaving him out of disgust. The added shame of the fantasy nearly made him come a second time.

The next morning, two hundred dollars waited for him in his PayPal account, along with the note, _Excellent work._ _Though your risk paid off, further deviances from instruction will be met with punishment._

Ben grinned.

***

Ben came home to find another package waiting for him, this one smaller than the last. He took it inside and opened it before he even set down his backpack. Inside was a brand new Macbook.

“Holy shit,” he whispered to himself. There was a note on top of the package, which he unfolded and read:

_You will have some leeway in my next request. On the laptop, you will find Skype already installed and logged into a dummy account. At 8 this evening, I will call you and remain on mute. You are to then bring yourself to climax. You may set it to audio only, or show me as much or as little as you like. The more you show me, the higher your tip, and the shorter your probationary period._

There were so many things wrong with this. He could brush off a couple fully clothed pictures for more money than they were worth. He could believe this arrangement was short-lived. He could let himself get swept away in the mystery and speculation of it all. He could _want_ without necessarily _having_ , such as the case of wanting to please Hux, but the reality of actually doing it was a very different thing.

It was easy in the quiet of night to imagine these things, but in the light of day, he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

What would his grandfather do? His grandfather grew up dirt poor, fixed cars instead of going to school, and then got drafted. He worked his way through the ranks and eventually became a General in the US Air Force. He probably had to do a lot of weird and terrible things to get by, Ben reasoned. Maybe not masturbate on camera for some rich dude he never met, but Ben wouldn’t have put it past him.

Ben’s mother, however...well, she would never get herself in such a bind that she’d need saving in the first place. In fact, she’d be downright ashamed of him for this.

Which, once he realized it, was all Ben needed to convince him to do it.

***

Apple products. There was no fucking manual. He had to intuit the damn thing when he opened it, but unlike every other piece of technology he picked up, he wasn’t too bad with it. What took the longest was figuring out how to do a test shot.

By the eleventh hour, he managed to find an angle of himself that wasn’t too modest, nor particularly obscene: on his bed, lying on his back, with the laptop open beside him. He wore a t-shirt and stripped down to his briefs, and he thought that might be as far as he was willing to go. Until showtime, he sat cross-legged in front of the computer, staring at Skype and willing it to ring.

At eight on the dot, user BHJ7429 called him.

Ben couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Some random stranger paying who-knew-how-much to watch him jack off.

He answered, and was predictably met with silence.

At the bottom of the screen, the program notified him that BHJ7429 was typing.

_You may speak. I can hear you._

“Oh,” Ben said. “Um. Hi.”

_Good evening. I have a half hour set aside for this. Do you believe that time frame is manageable?_

“Yeah. Yeah, that should be...fine.”

_Then by all means, you are welcome to begin._

When Ben froze with sudden apprehension, Hux added, _You may watch pornography if it helps._

“No, um. I don’t watch porn.”

_Not surprising. You don’t seem the type._

“Thank you?”

_You’re welcome._

Ben ran his sweating hands over his thighs, his room suddenly stifling. “Will you…” He trailed off, not knowing exactly what he was asking. He wanted what Hux had given him before, the adrenaline surges in the mornings when he told Ben his work was satisfactory. Or maybe for Hux to insult him, call him names, threaten some punishment if he didn’t act. But he didn’t know how to ask for it.

_Is there a problem?_

“May I make a request? Sir?”

_I was not planning to be a participant in this, but if you must, yes._

“Just...feedback. Any kind of feedback. Something. Anything.” He sounded desperate. Maybe he was.

Hux didn’t begin typing immediately. Long, painful seconds stretched by as Ben waited.

Finally, Hux replied, _Were I there, I would rip your clothes off with my teeth. Then I would bend you over the nearest piece of furniture and have my way with you until you begged me for release. Is that what you want to hear?_

The air rushed out of Ben’s lungs. He could feel his face and ears get hot while his dick twitched in his briefs.

_You look stunning when you blush._

Which just made him blush more.

_Oh. This is unexpected. I was unaware it would be so easy to illicit such a reaction from you._

“Well I’m not very, you know...experienced in any of this.” He felt ashamed to admit it to someone who probably had an encyclopedic knowledge of kinky sex, but at least it was finally out there. The shame made him harder.

_No pornography. No experience. Blushing like a virgin, perhaps because you are one. You are more fun than I could have ever anticipated, Ben. I appreciate being given the truly remarkable opportunity to corrupt you._

Ben smiled at that, feeling slightly more at ease now that he knew Hux had an interest in him, as ambiguous and shallow as it may have been.

_Though we have taken up enough time chatting. I would like the entertainment to begin._

Ben froze, his hands at the hem of his shirt.

_Unless you would like to skip straight to punishment._

The warring desires of not wanting to disappoint Hux while simultaneously wanting to be punished by him left Ben aching to proceed anyway, so he closed his eyes, counted to three, and took off his shirt. His grandfather’s dog tags clattered against his chest. He’d always been kind of scrawny and awkward his whole life, but since he started his job at the market and took long treks across campus with a tome-laden backpack, he’d filled out a little. His arms were, well, if he was being honest with himself, decently impressive. He didn’t have a perfectly flat stomach, but his chest was broad and defined. In all, he didn’t think he was too bad.

 _Stunning_ , Hux told him, and Ben could feel a rush of heat spread all over his body. There was a thrill in being ogled like this. Objectified. Wanted.

He lay back and shifted the laptop to what he felt was the best angle, one where Hux couldn’t see his face (in case he was recording and this was all an elaborate scheme), but could see all the way from his shoulders to his thighs. Then he reached into his briefs and stroked himself. Slowly at first, gentle. It took an embarrassingly short amount of time to get completely hard.

He thought about what Hux told him, imagined being bent over the arm of his couch, an anonymous, ambiguous male form pounding into him. He’d never inserted anything into himself before, so he could only speculate how it felt, to be penetrated. To be used. He imagined a strong hand threaded through his hair and pulling him taut like a bow, imagined Hux still completely clothed in a thousand-dollar suit and Ben naked underneath him. Imagined being so hard and wet that he’d want to come but wouldn’t be allowed to.

He slicked himself with precome, his cock still mostly hidden underneath the cotton of his underwear, but as he worked himself, he could feel the tip peeking out over the elastic, until he gathered the courage to pull it down to the base and free himself completely. He knew in an abstract way that he was large, though he didn’t particularly understand why it mattered. For the first time, he felt mild pride at his size, because maybe Hux liked it too. Maybe Hux would ask him to do this again. Maybe Hux would ask him to stick a finger or two in himself, too. Maybe Hux--

Ben glanced over at the computer. Though he was sideways, he could make out, _Keep going._ Followed by, _Faster,_ and,  _Do not come until you receive my permission._

So Ben sped his movements, getting wetter and wetter until the slapping sounds grew obscene. He was thankful Rey wasn’t home, because he was also starting to pant, let out small hitched moans that he tried to keep at bay and couldn’t.

His body began to tense, his imagination running wild--Hux forcing him to his knees, Hux shoving his cock down his throat, Hux making him cry. He imagined being tied up and fucked until his body gave out. Being called a dirty slut. Being used. Owned.

But what sent a surge of pleasure through him, pushed him past the point of no return, was the thought of what it would feel like for Hux to come inside him. A dozen of ambiguous Hux-like figures standing over him and coming all over his body, fucking him in turn and coming in him until he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

He glanced at the screen and found himself saying, “Please, sir. May I come?”

_Beg me._

Ben twisted his other hand in his hair and pulled just to give him something else to focus on. He felt like he’d been poised at the edge for eternity.

“Sir,” he said, voice cracking. “Please, sir. I’m so close. I need...I need to come. I’ll do anything you ask, sir. Anything.”

_Anything?_

“Yes, sir. Anything. Just please, please let me come.”

_You may._

Those two little words pushed him over the edge, and he came with his eyes squeezed shut, his hand nearly cramping around his dick. His come landed all over his stomach and chest, wave after wave to the point he thought it would never end. It was by far the most intense climax of his life. He couldn’t imagine what it would have been like if Hux had actually touched him.

His orgasm finally subsided and he caught his breath. There was a beautiful moment when his eyes were still closed and this whole situation seemed very normal, just Ben in his bed, masturbating like he did sometimes. Like most people did, really. Not strange at all. Nope.

Then he opened his eyes, glanced at the computer, and realized he’d just jerked off on camera for a man who required him to beg for release.

And moreover, Ben did.

_Let me see you._

Ben sat up, come trailing down his chest and stomach, body sweating, hand a mess. He tucked himself back in his briefs and waited for his next instruction, unable to look at the image of himself on webcam.

_You will receive your tip in the morning. Thank you for your time._

The call ended.

After a brief, stunned moment, Ben slammed the laptop shut and got out of bed to clean himself up.


	3. Chapter 3

Ben awoke to two hundred and fifty dollars in his PayPal with no further comment. Instead of feeling excited at a job well done--pun not intended--he just felt...empty. Mediocrity had always been his greatest fear, and money never really motivated him.

His father tried to lure him to the less reputable side of labor with the promise of more money than he could fathom, but money was worthless if it wasn’t earned. Similarly, his mother urged him toward glory through politics, but he had no mind for it. He was always accidentally interrupting people, or blankly staring at hands outstretched to him to shake, or thinking for too many hours whether a stranger smiling at him on the sidewalk might have actually been a scowl. There was no way he could survive politics.

There was no way he could survive anything, really, which was why he needed to rely on a bossy guy he didn’t know a damn thing about to “tip” him for prurient deeds. This was why he moved out in the first place--to prove he could take care of himself. That he didn’t need a team of therapists and an overbearing mother asking him a dozen times a day how calm he was feeling, reminding him to breathe and meditate and all the other bullshit practices that she’d shoved down his throat over the years.

All he needed was a cousin who loved him unconditionally, an interesting field to study, and a mentor who believed in him. 

At least, he thought he did. Now he felt like he’d hit rock bottom without even being aware of it, having enjoyed the entire way down. What was he but a petty whore? He had no gripes against sex work, but his perception of it made sense--attractive, confident, seductive people luring the weak-willed and lonely. Ben was neither attractive nor confident, and he certainly wasn’t seductive. Moreover, Hux didn’t seem weak-willed or lonely. He was rich and perfect and probably beautiful. He could have anyone he wanted. Why did he want Ben?

***

No amount of caffeine in the world could perk Ben up. He trudged through the mindless, tedious process of stocking shelves and lamented his lost potential. 

Rey, probably sensing he was bummed out, texted him pictures of cats doing stupid things throughout the day. She also sent him the occasional Snapchat of herself--asleep on a textbook, pointing at Finn asleep in class behind her, eating a cheeseburger with the caption “OM NOM NOM.”

They made him smile, at least. There was a time in his life when Rey lived across an entire ocean and didn’t have access to internet, so he tried not to take their easy communication for granted. He snapped back a picture of himself giving a thumbs-up.

As he stocked a freezer with frozen waffles, his phone vibrated again, presumably with another snap from Rey (fraction of a burger left and some fry bits, caption “FOOD WON” he guessed), and ignored it. Eventually he went on break, and sipped at a cup of tepid, poorly brewed coffee as he watched the bustle of afternoon grocery shoppers from the sidelines.

He checked his phone to look at the time, surprised to find a text from Hux.  _ Looking forward to seeing you again. 8 tonight? _

Ben grinned, the fog slowly lifting from his head for the first time all day, pitiful that it only took one text.  _ Absolutely. _

He thought the conversation was over, but Hux asked,  _ How is work? _

_ Slow, _ Ben replied, trying to figure out if this was a friendly conversation or if it was leading somewhere specific.

_ I once worked in retail as well. They say it builds character, but I am loath to agree. _

_ Destroys character, more like. Defining people by their productive output is reductive and inhumane. _

_ “From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.” _

_ More or less, though I don’t necessarily prescribe to Marxism. _

_ I will decline to comment, but I appreciate a man who can speak comfortably on socioeconomics.  _

_ I wouldn’t call it comfortably _ , Ben admitted, and explained,  _ I tend to lose patience quickly.  _ It was the understatement of the century, but hopefully he wouldn’t have to go into detail.

_ I also appreciate those passionate in their convictions. Give me rage over apathy any day.  _

Ben huffed a laugh.  _ If I pass my probationary period, please remember you said that. _

His break ended, but he wanted to continue talking to Hux. This was the longest conversation they’d had, and it was probably one of the most interesting he'd engaged in outside of school.

_ I will, though if you pass your probationary period, I’ll be keeping you far too occupied for either of us to be concerned with such trite nonsense as economic downturn. _

Ben froze in the middle of punching in his PIN. Before he finished, he typed back,  _ Occupied, you say? _

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and clocked in, then put his apron back on and looked at the checklist for something he could do in moderate privacy. There, breaking down boxes. It was one of his least favorite jobs, but he wouldn’t be interrupted by managers or patrons, so he initialed it and sped to the back.

On his way, he checked his phone again.  _ How can someone so beautiful and intelligent also be gifted with a delightfully filthy mind? _

_ Diligence, practice, and a blatant disregard for self-preservation when handed mysterious business cards by mild acquaintances. _

_ Mr. Dameron spoke highly of you. I was under the impression you were friends. _

Ben began the slow, torturous process of breaking down boxes. For every box he tossed onto the pile, he sent a text. At least it made the day go faster.

_ Neighbors. He and Finn live in the apartment below me. They’re friends with my cousin Rey, who’s also my roommate. That said, I’m not good at determining the difference between friend and acquaintance.  _ To clarify, Ben added, _ I only consider Rey a friend because she tells me she loves me every five minutes. _

_ That is quite in line with what Mr. Dameron explained, yes.  _

_ What else did he say? _

_ You’re bold today. I appreciate you helping me pass the time at this dreadful board meeting, _ Hux replied, and Ben’s stomach did a little flip.  _ And I quote, “Tall, hot, smart, awkward in a charming way, one of the best guys you’ll ever meet. A+ human being and totally your type. You got the Dameron guarantee on that.” _

Ben laughed, and it echoed through the empty back room. He gathered the courage to reply,  _ Do you agree? _

_ That depends. _

_ On? _

_ What you like, and whether that is accordant with what I like. _

_ What do you like? _

_ Telling you is like providing the answers to a test. Where’s the fun in that? _

_ I find receiving a good grade to be the best kind of fun there is. _

_ I would expect nothing less from you,  _ Hux replied, and though Ben wasn’t always great at gauging tone, he thought he detected amusement.  _ So I am compelled to ask, what do you like, Ben Solo?  _

Ben thought about it. It was a broad question, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Hux was looking for a specific answer.

_ Doing a good job. Receiving recognition for doing a good job.  _

_ I see. And if you make a mistake? _

_ I accept all consequences of my actions. I take accountability for what I do. _

_ And if those consequences are physical in nature? _

Ben was too distracted to continue breaking down boxes, so he leaned against a wall, out of the direct line of the open door, a stack of crates hiding him.

_ Communication has never been my strong suit. Physical consequences are clearest.  _

_ Preference for pain over pleasure? _

_ Both in equal measure, sir. _

He’d never admitted any of this before, not that he’d ever had anyone to admit it to, and certainly not someone who was already far more experienced in all the dark things Ben was curious about. 

_ Very good,  _ Hux replied, and Ben thought he might melt right out of his skin.  _ Tell me, what is it you fantasize about? _

Ben glanced around the stack of boxes to the door. No one was around, which was good, because he could already feel his cock twitching in his pant leg. 

When he was younger, he used to force himself to think about women, even though sometimes he had trouble differentiating gender at all. Then he gave up on that and preferred thinking of the way things might feel, what vague, strong forms could do to him in a given circumstance. Regardless, he found himself unable to articulate any of it.

_ Graduating with a 4.0 and taking a gap year before grad school to backpack through Europe. _

_ Funny. Defiant. Not the answer I’m looking for. _

_ Apologies, sir. Again, inexperienced. _

_ Allow me to assist,  _ Hux replied.  _ I’ll provide you scenarios and you tell me on a scale of 1 to 5 how desirable they sound, 1 being not at all and 5 being very. Understood? _

_ Yes, sir. _

A game. With strict rules. Ben could do that.

_ Making out with a pretty woman in a movie theater. She trails her hand up your leg and fumbles with the button of your trousers.  _

Ben closed his eyes and imagined that. It did nothing for him.  _ I don’t like interruptions during movies. 1. _

_ Receiving oral sex from a woman you just met at a bar. She drags you out into the alleyway, drunk and clumsy, but her mouth is beautiful and you’re out in the open where anyone might see you.  _

_ Drunkenness is a sign of weakness. Not a turn on, but I like the idea of risk. 2. _

_ You meet a woman in one of your classes and work on a project together. She invites you to her apartment, then to her bed. You kiss her, undress her, and go down on her. She shouts your name as she comes. _

Jesus Christ. That image was much more to Ben’s liking, though what was more poignant was Hux speaking to him like this at all. 

_ I’d probably be nervous because I haven’t done that before, but otherwise I like everything about it. 3. _

_ Same girl. Same situation, but after she’s had time to rest, she wants you to fuck her senseless. You do. Then she’s on top. Her skin under your palms is soft and warm, her breasts large and sensitive. She reacts favorably to your every touch, and comes on your cock. You feel her walls pulse around you, pulling you toward release. _

Ben shifted his erection to a more comfortable angle. He wasn’t going to touch himself at work, where anyone could walk in on him and fire his sorry ass. He  _ wasn’t. _

_ Still a 3. But a strong 3. _

_ You’re in a loving relationship with a man who likes you to tie him up and fuck him. You restrain his wrists to a headboard, stretch him open, and pound him to your heart’s content. He comes untouched all over himself. You pull out and come all over him too. _

_ 1 _

_ Because he’s a man? _

_ Because I don’t like bossing people around.  _

_ Reversed situation then. You’re tied up, pulled taut, and fucked until you can’t see straight. He pulls out, climbs over you, and comes on your face.  _

Ben’s cock ached for friction. He shifted his hips involuntarily, cupped himself in his hand and let out a low sigh. He could feel himself leaking a stain in his jeans. At this rate, he’d need a break just to jerk off in the bathroom.

_ 4 _ , he replied.

_ Two men, one fucking your ass and the other your mouth. You’re still restrained and also blindfolded. They clamp your nipples, put a cock cage on you so you can’t come. Everything hurts. One comes inside you, the other all over you. They leave you tied up until they’re ready to fuck you again. _

Fuck. Just one touch, Ben reasoned. He slipped a hand into his pants and stroked himself, throbbing hard and oversensitive. 

_ 5,  _ he typed with his other hand. _ Very 5. _

_ You, on your knees, hands tied behind your back, blindfolded and naked. Me, in front of you, appraising you. Tell me what you’d like me to think of you. _

Ben should have been disconcerted by the sudden change in rules, but he was too wired, too turned on to overthink things like he always did. It was like his mind sunk into blissful blankness.

He slowly fucked his own hand while the other typed,  _ I’d want you to trust me. To trust that I’d be good for you. That I could take anything you had to give. _

_ What would you like me to do to you? _

_ I’d want you to tell me what to do. Use me. Hurt me.  _ Ben was getting dangerously close, too close to turn back and take this to a bathroom stall. Besides, no one was around anyway.  _ Please sir _

_ There already? _

_ Yes sir please _

_ At work? How indecent.  _

_ Im sorry sir I couldnt help it please dont make me beg thatll only make it worse _

_ What would you do if I told you no? _

_ Id be good for you _

_ You would stop? _

_ Yes sir _

_ You wouldn’t come until I gave you express permission? _

_ No sir _

Ben gritted his teeth, stilling his movements though it hurt to do so. He thought he might shatter into a million pieces if Hux told him no.

_ Tell me you’re mine. _

Ben didn’t hesitate.  _ Im yours sir _

_ That I own you. _

_ You own me sir Im all yours please _

_ Good. You may come. _

Ben dropped his phone and unbuttoned his pants, fist moving furiously on his cock. It took a half dozen strokes before he was coming in his palm, biting down on the pad of his other hand to keep from making any noise. He caught his breath as he slid down the wall.

He picked up his phone with his clean hand to find another text from Hux.  _ Meeting adjourned. I’ll Skype you this evening. _

***

Rey hugged Ben when he returned home hours later. “Look at you,” she said, holding him at arm’s length. “You’re positively glowing!”

“I thought that was a term reserved for pregnant women.” 

She went back to the kitchen as Ben sank onto the couch. He had another hour until Hux would call him. 

“And young men with crushes on older men who buy them fancy things,” Rey corrected, stirring what smelled like stir fry. She filled a bowl for him and handed it over with a fork, then sat down beside him.

He looked at her suspiciously. “You only ever cook for me when you want something.”

“And they say you don’t pick up on cues easily,” she said, tapping his knee proudly.

Even though he knew something bad was coming, he ate the food anyway. “I don’t. You’re just a flashing neon sign.”

Rey’s perpetual grin faltered, then picked up again. “Well, I talked to Dad today--”

“No,” Ben replied before she could go any further.

“You don’t even know what I’m about to say.”

“I can guess. Mom is manipulating Uncle Luke into manipulating you into talking me into talking to her. I’m not going to do it.”

“Benny,” Rey said, disappointed, “she’s your mother.”

“She’s a cunning, stubborn, single-focused human being who refuses to see any perspective but her own. We’ve been fine without her. I go to all my doctor’s appointments. I take all my meds. We pay all our bills.”

“Well maybe this isn’t about you, have you ever thought about that?" Rey's tone sharpened. "Have you ever thought that maybe she likes you? Enjoys your company? Misses you?”

Ben didn’t reply, so Rey continued, “It is entirely possible that ignoring your parents hurts their feelings, and maybe they’re too stubborn to explain that to you, but I’m not.”

Ben set his bowl down on the coffee table, appetite gone. “I don’t understand. Are you...mad at me?”

Rey straightened her skirt, her legs crossed at the ankles, posture straight and strained. “‘Mad’ is an oversimplification. I’m frustrated and sad, and it happens to look like being mad.”

“Why? This has nothing to do with you.”

Rey looked at him like he’d struck her. He knew that look--he’d struck people before. The split second of stunned shock before the pain set in, like they couldn’t believe he’d do such a thing, they  _ trusted _ him, how could he--

And every time, Ben didn’t understand. Of course he could hurt people. One should expect such behavior from broken people, from monsters like Ben. It was their fault they were naive enough to have faith in him.

“You think that watching all the people I love constantly at war doesn’t affect me?”

“But none of us are mad at you. We’re mad at each other.”

Rey opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again and composed herself. “Think of it this way: would you rather sit at a dinner table with three people you love screaming at each other, even though none of them are screaming at you, or three people laughing together and having fun?”

Ben could see Rey’s disappointment that his response wasn’t immediate. “I don’t know. With the latter, I would either not understand the joke, or, historically speaking, I  _ am _ the joke. And the former...I guess I’ve never been in a situation where the screaming wasn’t directed at me.”

Rey’s face softened. She reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. “I guess we have opposite problems. You’re a walking target and I’m invisible.”

Ben took her hand and held it in his own. He wasn’t great at showing affection, communicating how much he appreciated her and how hard life was before she moved here for good. He should tell her sometime how she changed his life; he hoped she already knew, though, in case he never found the courage.

“I can see you,” he replied instead.

Rey smiled, the bright, adoring kind she reserved especially for him. “And I’d never hurt you.”


	4. Chapter 4

Ben did, in fact, utilize his breathing exercises from time to time. Namely while cross-legged on his bed staring at his new computer and willing it to ring. He had already taken his shirt off and a put on clean pair of briefs. He even showered and shaved and blow-dried his hair. 

(“Ohh, pretty!” Rey had said, walking past the bathroom while he was putting on moisturizer. He had never before noticed the dark circles under his eyes, let alone cared enough to do something about it.)

Normally his appearance was a total loss no matter what he did, but Hux seemed to find him attractive somehow. It was...uplifting. It gave him confidence. 

The clock ticked over to eight and Skype rang simultaneously. Ben didn’t want to seem too eager; he waited for the count of five and answered. Like before, Hux’s icon was blank and his mic was muted. Instead, he typed,  _ One step ahead I see. _

Ben laughed nervously and ran a hand through his hair. He could already feel his face heating up, thinking about what happened earlier, facing Hux again (in a manner of speaking) so shortly after. “Yeah, um, only a half hour, figured we could speed things along.”

_ Not a half hour tonight. However long you like.  _

“Oh. What’s the, um...plan?”

_ No plan. I would like the opportunity to get to know you better. _

Ben unconsciously covered himself by scratching his shoulder, confidence rapidly deflating. Maybe Hux didn’t find him as attractive as Ben initially thought, if he was so bored by him already that he didn’t want Ben to perform again.

_ Oh stop it. How often do you need reassurance that you’re gorgeous? _

The tips of Ben’s ears burned. “Never, technically. Because I’ve rarely received it.”

_ I hate repeating myself. Do not make me research adjectives for ‘beautiful.’ _

Ben didn’t know what to say to that. He couldn’t really help how self-conscious he was, moreover he couldn’t tell if Hux was complimenting him, insulting him, or both. It wasn’t like he could just force himself to be less deprecative about his appearance.

_ Ben, believe me when I say you are by far one of the most aesthetically pleasing individuals I have ever had the fortune of gazing upon. I cannot speak for others, namely because they are, in all probability, idiots.  _

Ben ducked his head and smiled at that. “So it’s not because…”

_ It is because I am rather sated by our earlier interaction, and instead of canceling tonight’s meeting, I thought we could just talk. _

“Talk.”

_ Yes, talk. More specifically, you talk, I listen and type. _

Ben blurted out, “Why do you prefer typing?” And immediately regretted it. It wasn’t his business, and he didn’t want to seem nosey when Hux made it clear he preferred privacy.

_ I pose a question to you in turn: in an ideal world, what is your preferred method of communication? _

Ben thought on it. “In an ideal world, I wouldn’t need to communicate. Society would be a hive mind working toward a grander purpose. Communication itself is a flawed concept, borne of unfortunate biological chaos.” He looked down and tangled his fingers into the afghan his grandmother had crocheted for him when he was a baby. “But that train of thought generally lends itself to an existential crisis, so I try not to think about it.”

_ An amusing notion, and one I will consider. In contrast, I believe the written word is the second purest essence of self-portrayal, and while many perceive face-to-face interaction connects concepts most thoroughly, I feel the only way to truly see into a person’s mind is with pen and paper, ones and zeroes. _

“So what’s the purest essence of self-portrayal?”

_ Put simply, touch.  _

“How so?”

_ By the way my skin touches yours, you would know without a shadow of a doubt my intentions toward you. The way I would either run my fingers through your hair in a caress, or grip it to yank backward before sinking my cock down your throat. Action, reaction. Push, pull. Words can be ignored, but you cannot hide from the force of a back-handed slap across your face. _

Ben swallowed hard. “That’s an...interesting idea.”

_ One I hope is alluring to you. _

“Yeah...yeah. Definitely alluring.”

_ May I ask a personal question? _

Ben cleared his throat and subtly readjusted himself in his briefs. “Sure.”

_ Whose dog tags are you wearing? I didn’t think you old enough for military service. _

He looked down at himself and picked up the dog tags, hardly noticing them considering he never took them off. “They’re my grandfather’s. He died eight years ago and left them to me. He didn’t have much in terms of money or anything, but he willed a few things to all of us.”

_ I am sorry to hear of his passing. Who do you mean by “all of us”? _

“Well, Rey. I told you about her. Rey’s dad Luke, my uncle. And my mom, Luke’s sister.”

_ What of your father? _

Ben shrugged while he continued fiddling with his dog tags. “He doesn’t really have a place in the family portrait anymore.”

_ Why? _

He huffed a mirthless laugh. “It’s kind of a long story.”

_ You are welcome to tell it. _

“I didn’t even tell my therapist.” He felt immediately stupid for for even bringing up that he had a therapist, let alone an entire team of doctors and an inconvenient number of monthly check-ins.

_ As you wish. _

“No, I mean,” Ben took a deep breath. It was a stupid story, but he found himself seeking Hux’s approval, wanting Hux to see him for who he really was. He chalked this feeling up to the fairness of full disclosure: Hux should know what he was getting if he decided to let Ben pass the probationary period. 

So he continued, “Rey was born when I was three. In the US. But Mara, my aunt, didn’t want her to grow up here, so they moved back to the UK, on the condition that Rey and Luke would spend summers at my parents’ house. My mom was a school principal and on city council. My dad was a truck driver. My grandpa had already passed away a few years earlier, and that’s about when my,” Ben made air quotes around the term, “‘behavioral problems’ started, according to my file.”

He waited for Hux to reply, but when the notification didn’t pop up that he was typing, Ben trusted he was there and added, “Whereas I kind of...spiraled, you could say, Rey did really well in ballet. By fifteen she was going to a fancy school for it, all set to go pro, whole nine yards. She didn’t have time to come visit during the summers anymore.

“I was nineteen. I’d barely graduated high school. I didn’t have a job and I didn’t want one. No interest in college, my mom refused to let me join the military. She was already preparing to run for Senate at that point, and she was so busy with the campaign that she let me continue living with her on the condition that I do all the maintenance for the house. So I finished the basement and turned it into an apartment for myself. 

“Anyway, we lived in a small town. If you wanted to get somewhere, you had to find someone to drive you. I never got around to getting a license, partly because Mom didn’t want me to have one and partly because I didn’t want one anyway. Rey argued her way into visiting over the week of her sixteenth birthday, and it was her last night in town. I didn’t know when I’d get to see her again. She wanted to go out for ice cream. Dad was on his way out the door for a long haul, so we hitched a ride.

“It was a Wednesday night. My mom was at a council meeting. To this day I don’t remember what caused it. My dad says it was a deer running across the road. Rey says it was a vehicle that veered into our lane. Rey was in the middle seat, I was in the passenger seat, and all I remember is reaching across the dash to mess with the radio, so I wasn’t paying attention anyway. My dad was griping at me for messing with his settings, Rey was singing along with whatever song came on, and then we were skidding. The truck tipped over into a ditch. I tried to shield Rey, and the doctors said that if I hadn’t, she would have died, but she still got the worst of it. Broke her leg in two places. I broke a rib. Later I ended up punching a couple orderlies who wouldn’t let me see her, but it just got me kicked out. Dad was fine.”

Ben paused his story when he saw Hux typing to him.  _ I am sorry that happened to you. _

“Thing is, that’s not the worst part. In addition to ruining Rey’s dance career, my dad’s cargo included a metric fuckton of, shall we say, illegal fare that I don’t want to get into. He was immediately sent to prison. He swore he had no idea what was in the boxes, but my mom divorced him anyway, and in my opinion it was a long time coming. Everything spiraled completely out of control after that. Rey tried to…” The words got caught in Ben’s throat at the memory, all the blood; he’d been so, so afraid. “She had a hard time after that. Refused to go home, wouldn’t leave the basement.

“But I couldn’t just let her waste her life, even though I was happy she had no interest in leaving anymore. So we made a deal: if she finished high school, we would both move out, together, and go to college. All or nothing. My mom was furious, insisted I was incapable of taking care of myself, let alone Rey, that I’m wasting my time and money majoring in history instead of something more practical. But really I think she’s just mad she has no control over me anymore. And here I am, a couple years later, making do.”

_ It sounds like you’re doing much better than that.  _

Ben shrugged. “Some days are better than others. I’m just happy Rey’s okay.”

_ Is she enjoying college as much as you? _

Before Ben got into Rey’s school drama, he stretched, suddenly sleepy, and lay on his side, adjusting the laptop so Hux could still see him and he could still read Hux’s messages. They continued talking about Ben’s life, Hux asking questions and Ben more open about answering them than he usually was. He fell asleep hours later, staring at the little notification that Hux was typing, and feeling lighter than he had since the accident.

***

Ben awoke the next morning to a blank laptop screen. He toggled it back on to see that Hux had ended the call hours prior. Ben did some sleepy math and determined that Hux had stayed on the line over an hour after Ben had fallen asleep. The message log read, simply,  _ Goodnight, Ben. _

Fuck. He fucked up. He got too personal, said too many things he shouldn’t have. He couldn’t even remember what all he told Hux--his life story, his relationship with Rey, his (oh god) appreciation for  _ Glee _ . 

He sat up in bed and checked PayPal, where five hundred dollars had been deposited. The note with it read,  _ I would like to end your probationary period. Please see email to follow. _

Ben’s heart sunk. He was tempted to chuck his computer across the room and fall back asleep, lamenting the loss of...whatever he and Hux maybe had, all because he got too eager and open. There was a  _ reason _ he was so reserved. It never paid off to expose so much.

But he bit the bullet, and checked the email Hux referred to, the subject line of which was blank.

_ Mr. Solo, _

_ You have shattered my expectations with your sincerity, diligence, and charm. You have piqued my curiosity as well, which is not an easy feat. I would thus like to extend you the opportunity to make our arrangement more permanent.  _

_ If you are amenable, I would like to take over the entirety of your expenses in exchange for the fulfillment of my requests on a daily basis. Due to the increase in work, I also request that you quit your part time job, though I insist you remain in school for the duration of your studies. I will be in touch with your university to fulfill your tuition going forward. _

_ I will not ask to meet in person. I will not ask to speak with you over the phone. I will not send you pictures of myself. For all intents and purposes, I will remain anonymous to you.  _

_ If you have a preference for what you would like me to call you, you may tell me. If you have specific restrictions, I will do my best to heed them. If you need to alter your schedule in any way, you may. _

_ While you are in my charge, you are not to pursue other romantic or sexual relationships, though you may not ask the same of me. I expect to be notified when you wake up each morning and when you go to bed each night. You will keep me informed of your classes, and though I may not always respond, you are to keep me apprised of your day to day life, to the extent it is comfortable for you to do so. _

_ I imagine this will be quite an adjustment for you, and as such, I will be more lenient for the first few weeks than I would otherwise be.  _

_ Given that this arrangement is not entirely legal, there will be no paperwork involved. I have complete faith in you to comply to our agreement due to our mutual sense of honor.  _

_ Please let me know by no later than by end of day tomorrow if you are willing to proceed. If so, I will have your expense card expedited to you. _

_ Regards, _

_ B. Hux _

Ben rubbed his eyes and read the email again. His heart had flipped at the opening compliment, and then at the idea that he was good enough to get past the probationary period so quickly. And Hux was going to pay Ben’s tuition. And his rent. And wouldn’t ask for really anything in return--not even to meet him--except for monogamy (not a problem; to Ben’s knowledge no one had ever expressed interest in him before, so it was doubtful anyone would any time soon), and for Ben to treat him like a…

He thought about it. The arrangement was something between grossly paternal and unhealthily possessive. A small part of him reacted normally to the idea--that this was terrible, and unhealthy, and absurd. The bigger part of him, the part that currently sported morning wood and twisted his stomach in a shameful and not entirely unpleasant way, found the offer so alluring, he couldn’t do anything but listen to his heart pounding in his ears while he restrained himself from replying in all caps. 

_ Mr. Hux, _

_ I am pleased by your offer and happily accept. I understand it’s good business to negotiate but I’m not about to split hairs with anyone willing to pay my tuition. I know this will take some adjusting, but I assure you I’ll take my duties seriously.  _

_ Given our “mutual sense of honor” as you put it, I hope it’s okay that I will be putting in my two weeks at work today so my employer has time to hire a replacement. _

_ Thank you again. I look forward to _

Ben stopped and realized he had no idea what to call what they had. Rey insisted on her “sugar daddy” nonsense; it wasn’t really a relationship because of the strict professionalism of it; and since Ben wasn’t directly getting paid, it wasn’t a job and, for obvious reasons, couldn’t go on his resume.

Eventually, Ben settled on,  _ pursuing our new arrangement.  _

After a brief hesitation, he added,  _ Please let me know how I may best serve you, sir. _

He sent the email and wasn’t sure if he needed to text Hux as well. He was nervous about initiating conversation, because he hadn’t attempted it since the very first message what felt like years ago. 

He decided to quit being a chickenshit (as his father would call him), and opened their text thread.  _ Good morning, sir. My apologies for falling asleep during our call. _

After staring at the text for a solid minute, he tore himself away from his phone and rolled out of bed to shower.

When he returned, Hux had texted him back,  _ Good morning, Ben. Not a problem; it was late. Plans today? _

_ Just class. I have a paper to work on at the library this afternoon. _

Ben didn’t know if it was polite in this situation to reciprocate the inquiry, so he played it safe and left it at that.

Hux replied,  _ Nothing after? _

_ No, sir. _

_ I will call you via Skype again at 8pm then.  _

_ Yes, sir. _

Ben waited for a moment to see if Hux would reply or if the conversation was over. After several tense seconds, Ben glanced at the clock, realized he was running late to class, and got dressed.

***

Ben adjusted to his new obligations faster than anticipated. Unnervingly fast, in fact. At first, being subservient felt strange and awkward, but after a few days, he relaxed into his role. He woke up every morning and texted Hux, who always promptly texted him back. He sent a few updates between classes, and at night he told Hux all about his day over Skype while Hux typed out questions and replies. Sometimes he masturbated for Hux, but sometimes he just fell asleep, oddly comforted by the idea he was being watched over. Every night he went to bed feeling cared for and protected, and every morning he woke up excited to pursue the day ahead. He couldn’t ever remember a time he’d been so happy.

Hux sent him his expense card, along with boxes upon boxes of clothes, designer label attire that Ben would never dream of purchasing for himself. Hux explained that he didn’t expected Ben to wear a suit every day, but a five hundred dollar t-shirt with a higher threadcount than his entire existing wardrobe was his new casual wear.

He also received upscale beauty products that admittedly made his hair kind of amazing and got rid of all his acne. Hux requested that Ben remain clean-shaven and impeccably groomed, which Ben was hesitant about until the compliments slowly began rolling in, tiny blips of praise that Ben lived for. 

_ Very handsome today, Ben,  _ and,  _ Simply stunning. _

One day, after Ben sent his daily selfie, Hux replied, _Beautiful._ _And all mine_ , and Ben nearly dropped his phone on the way to class. It aroused him so suddenly and so thoroughly--the memory of their little game before and the fantasies it elicited sneaking into his head--he contemplated ducking into a bathroom stall to jerk off. 

Instead he managed,  _ Yours, sir,  _ and floated through the rest of the day on a cloud.

Near the first of the month, Rey handed Ben a wad of cash for rent. Ben stared at it, confused, until he realized he never told her that Hux took over their bills.

“Keep it,” Ben said.

“Why?” she asked with no small amount of suspicion.

Ben had always been terrible about lying, and Rey could always read him like a book anyway. “I’m pretty sure you can figure it out.”

Realization dawned, and where any normal human being would probably be repulsed, Rey’s face broke into a grin brighter than the sun while she bounced on the balls of her toes. “You’re really doing it? You really have a sugar daddy?”

Ben pursed his lips to keep from smiling. “That term has never once been dropped.”

Even though she had been on her way out the door, she pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. “But he’s paying our rent? Have you met him? Is he handsome? How old is he?”

“Yes, no, no idea, and I honestly can’t tell.” Ben lost the battle with his smile, and instead opted to cover his mouth with his hand.

“Oh my god, this is amazing! I’m so happy for you! What comes up when you google him?”

Ben shifted in his seat. “I haven’t tried.”

“Why not? Aren’t you curious?”

“Yes, but...I have this kind of image in my head and I don’t want to shatter it.”

“If it were me, I would find out everything I could about him.”

Ben shrugged. “The thing we have is a lot about trust, and I feel like researching him would undermine that.”

Rey’s eyebrows nearly lifted to her hairline. “Look at you, a week under the tutelage of sir Daddy and you’re an expert in BDSM.”

Ben could feel his face flush all over. He covered it with his hands. “Please stop.”

“What? There’s nothing wrong with a little consensual power play. I remember back home, I was dating this girl Jess--”

“ _ Please _ stop.”

“Oh fine,” she said, standing from the chair and putting her messenger bag over her shoulder. She stooped down and moved his hands so she could plant an obnoxious kiss on his warmed-over cheek. “I love you with all my heart, you shy, submissive beast.”

“Go away,” Ben said, muffled in his hands.

She cackled as she opened the door, then called behind her, “There’s a package out here for you!” and left.

Ben scrambled up in excitement to retrieve the package. He was expecting another big box of clothes, but this one was small. Unassuming. And very obviously already opened and taped over again.

He picked it up and inspected it. His address was written by hand in black marker, covering the blacked-out address of B. Hux underneath it. It was apparent that Hux had this sent to himself, tampered with it, and forwarded it on. A small thrill ran down his spine at the thought of Hux handling this himself--his own hands,  _ real _ hands, strong ones that Ben had imagined holding him down, restraining him--and the writing on the box perhaps belonging to him, small, neat, each letter completely detached from the next. 

He ripped it open to find a new iPhone, three generations newer than the one he had. It was so new, he wasn’t exactly sure it was officially released yet. All the seals had been broken on the box, and when Ben slid it open, a note waited for him on top of the phone. Unlike the other notes Hux had given him, this one was handwritten, and it matched the writing on the box.

Ben thought his heart might hammer itself right out of his chest. Hux had  _ touched this _ . All of it. He was a real person somewhere, with a body and a living space and all the things people had. He probably carried a wallet, maybe a simple, leather trifold affair. He had everyday, mundane details about his existence like mannerisms, headaches, favorite foods, childhood memories--

Ben stopped that train of thought right in its tracks, because whenever he dwelled on it too long, he developed this agonizing ache to meet Hux. Touch him. Kiss him. Wonder at the beautiful, mysterious mind that was full of clever words and sharp wit.

He focused instead on the note, which read:

_ Ben, _

_ You can cancel your existing plan. Use this instead.  _

Ben picked up the phone and pressed the power button. It was already on, just asleep, but otherwise looked brand new. He opened the text messages. Blank. Calendar. Blank. Contacts--

The contacts were empty except for one entry. Ben stared at it, his heart in his throat, mouth suddenly dry.

_ Daddy _

"Fuck," he whispered to himself.

Here he was, thinking this  _ thing _ between them was nameless and obscure, all the while knowing in the back of his head that it wasn’t. Easy to ignore. Easy to push aside. Easy to focus on the day-to-day tasks asked of him instead of the way it looked on the outside. But it hit him, finally--the obsessiveness, the possessiveness, the strictness. It had a name.

The worst part, the shameful part he tried to push aside but set a shadow over him anyway, was the immediate, unfettered arousal, from the burning at the tips of his ears to the unmistakeable hardening of his dick. 

He sat down on the couch, and after several minutes of getting his shit together, willed himself to open a text to Hux and say,  _ I received the phone. _

He paused. He should say thank you, but a thanks nearly always required an appositive, normally  _ sir _ , but this time he didn’t know. 

Moments later, Hux replied anyway,  _ You’re welcome. _

He watched as Hux continued typing, then stopped. Typed some more, and stopped again. Like he was nervous, maybe. Normally everything he said was carefully crafted and thought out. To think of him typing and backspacing over and over like a regular person made him seem like...well, a person. Like the handwritten note. The opened box. In the weeks they’d been corresponding almost constantly, Hux had never felt so real as this moment. 

When Hux had ceased typing completely, Ben replied,  _ Thank you _ , and sent it as-is, the textual equivalent of offbeat conversation leading into an awkward silence.

He could almost hear the cocky amusement in Hux’s next text, overbearing confidence returned in full force to presumably mask the prior hesitation.  _ Oh, Ben. It’s far too late to play coy.  _

Ben took a deep breath. He typed it out, he really did.  _ Thank you, Daddy.  _ He stared at it until the words lost all meaning. Then he erased it, and sent,  _ I can’t. _

_ Why not? _

_ It doesn’t feel right. _

In fact, it felt nauseating, not in the least because of his distant and cold relationship with his actual father. Last he heard, Han Solo was on probation and staying somewhere upstate. “Daddy” reminded Ben too much of sitting on his father’s lap as a child, pretending to drive the big rig. His father was nothing more than a petty criminal, a trucker with no prospects or aspirations in life except “Don’t get caught.” 

But Hux was important, and kind, and actually gave a damn about Ben.

_ Fine, _ Hux relented,  _ take your time.  _

Ben’s gut twisted in an ugly way, like he’d disappointed Hux, after all he’d done for Ben. Given him security and gifts and joy. And all he wanted in return was Ben’s compliance to his simple requests. Ben could do a lot of things, but this was the first time it went too far. 

_ I’m sorry,  _ Ben replied.

_ There is nothing to be sorry for. My job is to take care of you, not force you to do things you are uncomfortable doing. _

_ Are we still Skyping later? _

_ 9pm. _

_ Okay. I have my meeting with Snoke and then I’ll be on. _

_ I’m looking forward to it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the [amazing fanart](http://starkillerboss.tumblr.com/post/141626795920/honeycomb-by-bettydays) for this chapter by starkillerboss!


	5. Chapter 5

Snoke’s house was the kind of building that if you were smart, you’d avoid, and if you were dumb, you’d approach. Large and ancient, ivy clinging to the stones, the place was settled in the woods with a long, winding gravel driveway. It was so quiet, Ben thought he could hear his heart echo on the wide porch, lit by a single bulb next to the front door.

He rang the bell. Snoke’s quick, short steps hurried to the door before he opened it.

“Ben,” Snoke said, smiling in a way that would look on anyone else like a pained grimace upon getting blood drawn.

“Dr. Snoke,” Ben replied, hands shoved in the pockets of his overpriced jeans. The weight of his new cell phone calmed him unexpectedly, knowing Hux was just a text away. It was absurd, really--he’d known Snoke for three years, and had only learned of Hux’s existence a few weeks ago. He’d never even met the guy, yet Snoke had been his trusted advisor, his teacher, his mentor. Ben couldn’t figure out why he was so damn unnerved by the situation.

Snoke stood aside and gestured for Ben to enter. “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a meal for us.”

“Oh,” Ben said, glancing around at the tall, vaulted ceilings and soft lighting. The place looked more like a museum than a house. “Thanks, but--”

“No, no, it was no trouble at all,” Snoke interrupted. Ben had been going to say he didn’t have time to eat.

Snoke brought him into an ornate dining room, the table in which easily sat a dozen guests, but Ben got the distinct vibe that no one but Snoke had been here for a long time. Ben put his backpack on the floor beside a chair and took a seat.

The dining room was connected to the kitchen, so Ben watched as Snoke flitted about the room, plating up whatever he’d cooked, which smelled of some vague meat that Ben probably wouldn’t care for but would now seem rude to decline.

“I hope you had no trouble finding the place?” Snoke asked.

“Nope,” Ben replied. Their conversation thereafter was clipped and bland, Ben replying more with rote memorization of what he thought he should say than actual answers. Yes, the weather had been quite nice. No, he wasn’t looking forward to winter. Yes, he was enjoying all his classes. No, he didn’t think history should merge all the humanities into one big large liberal arts major.

Then Snoke filled a wine glass for him, and Ben drank it, even though he didn’t like to drink because he put so much effort into self-control that alcohol seemed like poking a wasp’s nest with a stick. But Snoke continued pouring drinks for him, and Ben didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

Besides, the tipsier Ben got, the less restrained conversation became. He even found himself enjoying it.

Dinner included elk that tasted dry and bland with undercooked potatoes, but Ben ate it anyway. He’d always been a picky eater and barely consumed more than coffee and very specific brands of frozen food or takeout.

It crossed his mind that Snoke might have hunted and killed the elk himself, and were Ben completely sober, the idea that there were firearms in the near vicinity as well as someone willing to use them on innocent creatures for the sake of sport would have frightened him. Should have frightened him.

But he wasn’t entirely sober, and Snoke was regaling him with sordid tales of history faculty mishaps over the years, and by the time Ben looked at his watch again, it was well past when the buses stopped running. And Snoke hadn’t even brought up Ben’s paper.

Moreover, he was late for his Skype session with Hux.

Ben sat up in his chair and grasped for his backpack, but missed, and tried again. “Gotta…” he began. His voice slurred; his tongue felt heavy. Surely he hadn’t drunk enough to warrant this. “Gotta get going.”

Snoke put a placating hand on his arm. “Ben, it’s late. I have a guest room. Why don’t you stay?”

Ben froze, the blood in his veins turning to ice; he didn’t know how to communicate without formalities unless he was raging about something. “No thank you, I’ll just…”

He couldn’t walk home. Well, he _could_ , but it would take hours. Ben stood, wobbling on his legs, and had to steady himself on the corner of the dining table. The room spun.

Snoke stood too. “Let me drive you home, then.”

“No, it’s fine, I can get a ride.” It was a lie, but some part of him, some survivalist instinct still fully functioning, was telling him to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.

Ben stumbled to the front door and Snoke scuttled after him, placing a hand on it to prevent Ben from opening it further. “But we haven’t discussed your paper.” Ben had enough wits about him to hear the urgent threat in Snoke’s voice. “It would be a shame for you to fail.”

Ben took a deep breath and turned around to face him, trying his damnedest to keep calm. Beating Snoke to a bloody fucking pulp in a fit of blind, terrified fury definitely wouldn’t help his grade.

So he bargained. “Give me an extension. I'll come back.”

Snoke wasn’t expecting that. He stepped away enough that Ben was able to crack open the door, but Snoke slammed it shut again. He found himself backing into the door just to get away from Snoke, who smelled like stale tobacco and charred meat. He’d never been this close to him, and he never wanted to be this close again. He was cornered.

Snoke lifted a hand to Ben’s face, cupping it in his smooth palm. Ben squeezed his eyes shut and leaned away from the touch.

“No extensions,” Snoke said. “You’ll do as I ask of you or you’ll fail. Do you understand?”

He didn’t. He didn’t want to understand. Snoke was his mentor, he reminded himself. Snoke believed in him. Snoke cared for him.

Ben’s breath grew labored as he became more light-headed, the room spinning faster, walls closing in. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he couldn't tell if he wanted to scream or vomit. He could feel Snoke press into him, all five-foot-odd inches of his pliant, frail body, and a distinct hardness against his hip that Ben refused to believe.

Where was Ben’s anger? Where was the rage, the blood that coated his vision? Why was he so scared?

“Sweet child,” Snoke cooed, bringing Ben’s face toward him by pinching his chin. “You don’t want to fail, do you? Surely Senator Organa would have something to say about that.”

Ben’s jaw fell open. His knees weakened. “You wouldn’t tell her,” Ben choked out.

“I would. I have an entire email drafted out about how I’m worried for your grades, how you seem distracted, sullen. How I would appreciate her permission to recommend you to our school counselors.”

Tears warped the edges of Ben’s vision. His voice wavered as he whispered, “What do you want?”

Snoke took Ben’s wrist and guided it to his erection. Ben felt bile rise in the back of his throat, struggled with Snoke’s grip, unwilling to touch him.

And then Ben’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he remembered his agreement: Ben belonged to Hux. Not his school, not his mother, not Snoke. He could fail school, he could disappoint his mother, and he could…

He could…

Ben steeled his mind against whatever was coursing through his system long enough to wrench his hand away. He grabbed Snoke by the throat.

Snoke scrabbled against his arm, garbled sounds trying to shape themselves into words.

Ben could do a lot of things, but he refused to deceive Hux.

He picked Snoke off his feet and threw him. Snoke went flying, falling like a wet bag of sand to the floor. As soon as he was free, Ben braced himself against the wall and closed his eyes to steady the movement of the ground under his feet.

“You’re nothing!” Snoke spat, clinging to his throat. “You’re no one without me. I’ll see what your mother has to say about this. Assaulting a professor, I’ll have you expelled!”

Ben wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He swatted blindly at the door, which now had three knobs. As soon as he landed on one, he yanked the door open and wobbled out.

Snoke called behind him, “You should feel honored I even wanted you, you hideous, pathetic idiot!”

***

Ben made it all the way down the driveway and onto the pavement of an empty country road before he realized he had no idea how to get home. He started toward the direction of what he thought was his apartment, but could barely walk straight. Every step felt like navigating through an ocean of sludge.

He finally gave up and found a rock to sit on, then pulled out his phone.

Hux had texted him but he couldn't focus enough to read the words. He tried to text back, but his bulky fingers on the tiny buttons weren’t working. His old phone gave him a hard time too, but he also never texted while drunk.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, and hit Call.

Ben’s heart raced as he waited for Hux to answer.

Hux picked up on the fourth ring. “While I have certainly been stood up by men less impressive than yourself, it has never come so quickly in a relationship.”

His voice was...British. Clipped. Younger than expected.

“’m sorry,” Ben slurred.

“Where have you been?” The question wasn’t accusatory so much as urgent. And, Ben thought, maybe a little worried.

“’m sorry I called,” Ben repeated. He tried vainly to form the words correctly, but they came out warped and strained. “I know it’s against the rules, it’s just--”

“Tell me where you are, Ben.”

Noise crackled in the background of the call--people talking, laughing, music. Like a party. Ben couldn’t imagine Hux at a party, but the thought of interrupting Hux after ditching him because of his own carelessness and idiocy made him nauseated.

He glanced around the long, empty stretch of road with no street lights. “In the middle of nowhere. Walking home. ’m sorry for my tardi--tardin--for standing you up.”

“I would like to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you had good reason. If you’re uncomfortable telling me that reason, I’ll understand.”

Ben hated excuses. This whole situation was his fault, but before he could stop himself, he blurted, “Snoke kept making me drinks and I...I said no, but I didn’t wanna be imp--impol-- _rude_ , so I drank and-- _fuck_ \--I just wanna stop spinning.”

Silence fell over the line. “Allow me to understand. You were coerced into drunkenness?”

Shame bubbled through him, not the kind that thrilled him, but the kind that made him want to crawl into a hole and die. “Mhm.”

He could hear quick, heavy footsteps while the background noise fell silent. “Tell me what else happened.”

“I tried to...to leave. Wouldn’t lemme. Wanted me to stay the night. And...and he…”

Ben couldn’t finish the sentence because he didn’t even want to admit it to himself yet.

“You can tell me. It’s all right.”

“He wanted...stuff from me. Threaten--tried to _fail me_. Almost forced me into it.”

“Almost?”

Ben had to cover his mouth to hide the involuntary hitch that escaped him. “I remembered our agreement, and I…” He trailed off, mind blanking in and out of the events that had just transpired.

“Go on.”

“I choked him. And...and I threw him across the room.”

“And then what happened?”

“He called me ugly and dumb and I left.”

Hux’s voice went soft. “Oh, Ben.”

Ben couldn’t hold it in any longer. He buried his face in his hand and cried. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault. If I just wrote a better paper, none of this would’ve happened, and I’d be at home talking to you, and...and I’d be _happy_ \--”

“Ben, stop. Listen to me.”

Ben shut his mouth immediately, but his chin continued to tremble.

“Have you drank before?”

“Couple times, yeah.”

“And is this how it felt?”

Ben considered it. He didn’t remember it being this cloudy, losing spans of time from one memory to the next, like his brain was a projector that skipped several frames at a time. “Nuh uh.”

“I think you may have been drugged, and I fear this situation was far more dire than you’re giving it credit for. None of this, and I mean _none_ of it, is your fault--”

“No, but I could’ve--”

“Do not interrupt me when I’m speaking, Ben. I am a patient man, but it wears thin in the presence of cruel people taking advantage of those for whom I care.”

Ben gaped at the confession; he must have misheard, or maybe his booze-addled head just made it up. Before he could reply, Hux continued, “I need you to pay careful attention. I’m going to hang up shortly, and when I do, you’re to open the map app on your phone, take a screencap of where you are, and send it to me. I’ll have a car sent to take you home. You stay right where you are until someone arrives to retrieve you.”

“Okay,” Ben muttered. “I don’t wanna put you out or anything.”

For the first time, Hux sounded like he was smiling. “That isn’t possible, Ben. Text me when you get home, please.”

“Yessir.” It didn’t feel as weird as it thought it would to say ‘sir’ aloud even though he knew Hux preferred a different name, one that he still didn’t feel comfortable saying even drunk and maybe drugged.

Hux ended the call, and Ben didn’t have to wait long before a sleek black limousine pulled up in front of him.

When Ben climbed in, awkwardly, his limbs heavy and hard to maneuver, the driver said, “Boss wants you to check the fridge.”

Ben opened the little refrigerator to find three bottles of water, a box of protein bars, and another typed note.

_Ben,_

_Trust that I will take care of this._

_\--B. Hux_

***

He made it home a little after two in the morning. The apartment was dark, Rey presumably asleep for her eight a.m. class. Ben had an eight-thirty class, and didn’t bother undressing as he flopped onto his couch and texted Hux, _Home._

 _Good_ , Hux replied immediately. Given the speed of his replies, Ben wasn’t sure Hux ever slept. _Sleep in tomorrow._

 _I have class,_ Ben replied, struggling to keep his eyes open, his fingers fumbling dumbly on the keys.

_I’ll handle it. Goodnight, Ben._

_Thank y--_ Ben began typing, but fell asleep before he could finish.

***

Ben awoke the next morning to find a blanket draped over him, his new phone on the floor, a power drill making its way through his skull from the inside, and an urgent need to puke.

He raced to the bathroom and did just that, wallowing in several long moments of misery that were actually blissful in comparison to the harsh realization of the prior evening’s memories. A limo home. Calling Hux. _Crying_ at Hux. Assaulting Snoke. Potentially being drugged.

In the light of day, it seemed absurd that it was even real. Ben must have just overreacted. Snoke couldn’t have done any of that. Snoke was his professor. Snoke just wanted to help Ben get a good grade. He was tenured, and wise, and intelligent. He would never...

Another wave of nausea hit Ben, but not because of the hangover.

A loud rapping on his front door pierced the agony of Ben’s headache, and he lumbered to the door to stop the noise from happening again.

A delivery guy in a red shirt and hat handed him a plastic bag of something that smelled simultaneously amazing and also, given his present state, totally nauseating.

“I didn’t order this,” Ben said.

The guy shrugged. “It’s paid for, just sign here.”

And Ben did, because he lacked the mental fortitude to question it.

He handed the receipt back to the guy, took the food, and closed the door. The first container held steaming fresh scrambled eggs and bacon and hashbrowns. The second one had pancakes. There was also a drink carrier with orange juice and--god bless America--a twenty-two ounce piping hot coffee.

Ben was halfway into his first bite of bacon, forcing himself to eat it to help steady his tenuous system, when he remembered it was Thursday and he had class. Panicking, he checked his phone to find it well after noon, but he also caught sight of last night’s text messages. He squinted at the brightness of the screen. _I’ll handle it._

What did that even mean?

His phone vibrated in his hand. Rey, whom he’d given his new number since he already turned off his old phone, said, _What happened last night? I found you passed out on the couch after your visit with Snoke and now the entire history department is in a frenzy._

He opened his school email to find a bulletin. His eyes could barely focus on the tiny words, but he made out that Professor Snoke had been not only terminated, but escorted off campus by police.

He switched to a news app, and the story was the first article. It included a video, and he kept the sound off as he watched the shaking camera zoom in on Snoke’s scowling face. Two police officers marched him out of the building, handcuffed behind his back, cradling his head as they shoved him into the back of their vehicle.

Ben’s stomach dropped out. Sure, it was entirely possible Snoke was about to do something very bad to him, but it was also possible Ben drank too much and just misinterpreted what happened. And maybe now his memory was faulty about it anyway, or maybe he’d just dreamt some of it.

And then had the audacity to drag Hux into it. Hux, rich and powerful and mysterious. Hux, who possibly admitted he cared for Ben. Hux, who…

His phone vibrated again-- _Daddy_ , because Ben hadn’t changed the name yet. A phone call instead of a text.

He didn’t give himself time to be nervous, so he hit Send and brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?” His morning voice carried like being dragged over rocks.

“Please tell me you’re all right.”

“I’m all right.”

A pause. “Are you saying that because I asked you to or are you genuinely all right?”

“I’m all right,” Ben repeated.

Hux sighed in what Ben interpreted as relief. “Are you enjoying breakfast?”

“As much as I can, yeah.”

“Hmm,” Hux replied. “I’m not fond of phone conversations.”

“So why did you call?”

“I…” Hux hesitated. Ben didn’t think Hux was the type to hesitate about anything, ever. “After the events of last night, perhaps I grew a little...paranoid. I thought maybe Snoke would pursue you. I needed to hear you for myself.”

“Snoke can’t pursue me. You got him arrested.”

A heavy silence hung on the line. “That was faster than anticipated.”

“What did you do?”

“Not much. Snoke had paid several students--excuse me, victims--over the years to remain silent. I found them and paid them more. It was enough evidence to put him under arrest and hopefully sent to prison for at least the duration of your studies.”

Ben clutched the table to keep from dropping his phone and running back into the bathroom. “So he...he was really…”

Hux’s voice went soft again, like it had last night, all his sharp syllables and hard tones sweetening into something almost human. “I’m afraid so. I’m sorry this happened to you, Ben.”

Ben didn’t know whether to thank Hux or throw his phone across the room and trash his own apartment. His mentor was gone for the foreseeable future. The only man in the whole world who understood Ben’s ambition and believed in him. All because Ben overreacted and flipped his shit. _Again_. He had done the thing he promised himself he’d never do again for fear he’d get thrown back into a hospital. Ben wasn’t a violent person. He didn’t want to be a violent person--

Maybe Hux was lying. Maybe all the students who came forward were just paid to drag Snoke’s name through the mud. Maybe--

“I gotta go,” Ben said. The room was spinning again, familiar pressure building in his body.

“Ben--” Hux began, but Ben hung up on him and ran to the bathroom.

***

“Benny?” Rey called when she entered their apartment. Ben listened from his bedroom as her messenger bag thudded against the floor, filled with biology textbooks that weighed more than she did.

He didn’t answer. After his conversation with Hux, Ben had looked up the remaining news coverage on Snoke, then got into the shower and turned the water so hot it nearly scalded him. Then he sat in the tub until it turned cold. He still felt dirty.

Rey found him, lying on his stomach, which was where he’d spent the better part of the last several hours. She took a seat at the edge of his mattress and rubbed a calming hand on his back.

“Did Snoke…” she began, whispered words trailing off.

“No,” Ben replied. “I stopped it before it happened.”

“So how did you--”

“I didn’t. Hux did.”

“I see.”

She fell silent, gentle fingers carding through his hair, the only person to have ever touched him with affection instead of trying to hurt him or restrain him, a dog kicked too many times turned feral. He didn’t know what he would do without her.

“Are you angry with Snoke or Hux?”

“Both.” He rolled onto his side so he could see her, dimly lit by the crack in his door. She wore her hair in a tight bun like the ballerina she used to be. “Mostly myself.”

“Why?”

A calmness settled over him for the first time all day. “I just want things to go back to the way they were. I miss when my biggest problem was getting interrupted by Poe’s stupid laugh while I’m trying to study.”

Rey snorted. “I think it’s cute. He sounds like a dolphin.”

“He sounds like a machine gun. Or a gorilla breathing helium.” Silence fell between them again, until Ben added, “I barely know this Hux guy. But I thought I knew Snoke really well. I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“Don’t let yourself be fooled by Snoke’s kindness toward you,” Rey replied, stern. “It was a trick, a manipulative ploy to make you trust him. He wasn’t kind to anyone but his victims.”

“All I have is my own perception. Can I really judge someone based on how they treat others?”

“Yes, and I know your moral compass is often ambiguous, but in this case you should. Hux, while mysterious, did the world a favor today, putting that man where he can’t hurt anyone else. And he certainly did a favor to you if Snoke was planning on any kind of retribution.”

“How do I know Hux isn’t doing the same thing? I don’t know anything about him. He doesn’t even want to meet me.”

“What does your heart tell you?”

“Not much.” Ben’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Horrible conversationalist. Grossly repetitive.”

Rey laughed, as she always did at Ben’s terrible sense of humor. “But really, what does your intuition say?”

Ben chewed on it. “I don’t think I have intuition. Just facts.”

“Then you’ll need to get to know him better.”


	6. Chapter 6

Ben didn’t text Hux for an entire day, physically ill and mentally despondent. Hux didn’t initiate conversation, though he did send flowers. Ben had never received flowers before, and thus immediately assumed they were for Rey. The note was written by hand, though, in Hux’s neat, almost typeface writing, which meant he physically went to a florist and purchased them. 

The note read,  _ Take your time. Tell me what you need. _

Some part of him was comforted by the weight of this gesture, but mostly he’d grown so disgusted with himself, he took it as a character failing that Hux still liked him at all. 

Hux also sent Chinese food, three books from Ben’s wishlist, and an Otterbox case for his cell phone. Rey had a fit about it, laughing so hard she could barely breathe, between giggles saying, “He knows you so well already!”

Sunday, Ben lay on the couch (where he hadn’t moved much), staring at the flowers--roses, he thought they might be. He’d never given much notice to flowers before, but now he couldn’t train his eyes away from the thorns. He liked them better than the petals.

_ Tell me what you need,  _ the note had read; Ben turned it over and over in his mind. What he needed, for the first time in his life, was some actual intimacy. Not Rey’s familial intimacy, not Snoke’s non-consensual intimacy. Ben wanted a firm hand and soft lips, not flowers and books and text messages, the occasional emergency phone call. He wanted Hux to make good on all the fantasies and images he provoked in Ben, he wanted a conversation in person so maybe Hux wouldn’t evade all their controversial topics with, _I decline to comment._

He wanted to go on a godforsaken  _ date _ . Moreover, he wanted to be able to take his mind off of Snoke, off his future, his past, all of it. He couldn’t find peace in himself, immobilized on the couch, turning sullen and sour as the hours passed.

Eventually Ben pulled up his agreement email with Hux, which he now confirmed specified only that Hux wouldn’t  _ ask _ to meet, not that Ben couldn’t ask to meet in turn. So he switched to his texts and said,  _ I want to meet you. _

A blissful moment passed where Ben imagined Hux would reply with an easy  _ When? _ and they could go from there. Within seconds, his hopes disintegrated.  _ I am afraid that can’t happen. _

_ Why? _

_ Personal reasons. _

_ I jerk off on camera for you. As much as you seem to think it isn’t, this situation has gotten pretty personal. _

_ I do not appreciate being spoken to this way, but given recent events, I’ll let it slide. _

Ben scoffed.  _ What are you going to do, spank me? You’re not even willing to meet me. _

_ I chose you for this endeavor in part based on your ability to show respect where respect is due. Do not give me reason to regret it.  _

_ What if I quit? _

_ While you are free to sever this relationship whenever you choose, I don’t believe it will come to that. _

_ Why not? _

_ I would return all of your expenses to your name, tuition included. It is my understanding that poor financial acumen precipitated your correspondence with me in the first place. _

_ I could sell all the stuff you gave me. I would be fine. _

_ For a time, certainly. _

Ben gritted his teeth at the casual, overconfident nature of Hux’s reply, like the thought of Ben leaving him was hardly a blip on his radar.  _ Why are you doing this? _

_ Because you are behaving like an insolent child, and I repeat: I do not appreciate it. What you are neglecting to understand is that you have no bargaining chip here, thus the nature of our arrangement. While you may threaten to leave all you like, your predisposition toward codependence makes it so that you will not. You cannot. _

Ben’s jaw dropped. He stared blankly at his screen, winded, like Hux had choked him.  _ You used my weaknesses against me. _

_ Without seeking gaps in your armor, how else would I know where it needs mending? _

_ Your analogy is flawed. You wouldn’t stab an open wound to heal it. _

_ Perhaps you are unfamiliar with sutures. _

Frustrated tears flooded Ben’s vision; this was too much. His hands shook.  _ You’re a monster. _

_ That may be,  _ Hux replied,  _ but I am in good company. _

Ben threw his phone across the room. It bounced off the wall with a thud and left a black mark on the white paint, but the new case prevented him the satisfaction of watching it shatter.

***

The day passed without Ben picking up his phone from where it lay on the floor. Rey occasionally shifted his legs on the sofa to sit underneath them while she tried cheering him up, prattling on about petty things. She knew better than to ask what was wrong. 

Eventually she tidied up the apartment and got ready to meet someone somewhere for something. She mentioned where she was going, but Ben hadn’t been listening. 

Before she left, she knelt beside him and ran her hand through his hair. “I don’t know what happened, but if you ever want to talk about it, you know I’m here for you.” She kissed his temple. “I love you. I’ll be back later.”

Ben rolled over at one point, hours later, but otherwise didn’t notice when day turned to night.

He was roused from his half-doze by knocking. It was too late for a potential package, too early for one of Poe’s impromptu parties. Ben rolled off the couch and opened the door to find Finn in a white button-down shirt and a black bowtie. He looked up and down at Ben as Ben looked up and down at him.

“Why aren’t you ready?” Finn asked.

“Ready for what?”

“The catering gig. You promised a month ago you’d help out. Get dressed, we’re running late.”

Ben occasionally catered with a company Finn worked for when they were short-staffed. It paid decently for five or six hours of work. When Ben had agreed to this particular event, he had no sugar daddy paying his bills, and considering everything that had happened between then and now, he’d completely forgotten about it.

“Shit. Yeah...um, just a sec.”

***

“Do you know what this thing is supposed to be?” Ben asked Finn as he pulled a box out of the catering van.

Finn led him into the back of a commercial kitchen of some bland event space. Chefs were busy plating up tiny foods that Ben couldn’t identify by sight. Planners and coordinators and decorators ran around with their heads cut off, metaphorically speaking. It was the kind of total chaos Ben generally tried to avoid. 

“No idea,” Finn replied. He set the box down in a corner and Ben put his on top. “Some banquet called ‘Streamlining the Future’. Sounds like a bunch of corporate bullshit to me.”

Ben caught sight of the ballroom as a coordinator entered the kitchen. A projector screen read, _WELCOME_ _FIRST ORDER ENTERPRISES._

“Weird,” Ben muttered, and followed Finn to empty the rest of the van.

***

The good thing about catering gigs was that they tended to require so little thought that Ben could space out. He remembered to smile and repeatedly refill glasses. The open bar proved an annoyance; as the night went on, the crowd became increasingly intoxicated. Docile, like a herd of sedated cows. It disgusted him.

After the meal, the house lights lowered and Ben took his cue to wait at the back of the room with the other servers. A nondescript middle-aged woman took the podium and talked about things like  _ synergy _ and  _ productivity  _ and  _ profit margins, _ and it reminded Ben distinctly of double-speak. 

“With that said, it’s time we turn our attention to our main event of the evening, an analysis of the results of last quarter’s earnings and how we plan to ‘ _ Streamline Our Future’ _ . An expert financial strategist with an educational background in macroeconomics and over ten years’ experience in the industry, here to speak with us tonight is First Order Enterprise’s Vice President and COO, Brendol Hux II!”

There was applause, obviously, but Ben couldn’t hear it over the sound of static that had suddenly taken over all of his higher mental faculties.

Time seemed to slow down as a man walked out on the stage, confident and glaringly handsome. A tall, thin figure that nevertheless exuded confidence and power. Perfectly tailored tuxedo, red hair neatly tamed and parted, and skin so pale that the stage lights made him look like he was glowing.

Ben refused to believe it. 

Until Hux spoke. “Good evening, everyone.” The voice that calmed Ben when he was losing his shit a few days ago. The voice he’d heard in his head ever since. The voice and body and  _ real person _ that went along with all the words shared between them over the past month.

Ben had never fainted before, but he was strongly considering it. Instead, he clutched his serving tray so tightly he felt it crack in his grip.

Hux slid a sheaf of note cards from his breast pocket and tapped them against the podium. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed your meal. As well as the bonus in your retirement funds that was deposited this week, yes?”

The audience laughed politely; Hux held a command over the room that felt like a spell. Every pair of eyes was on him, and whereas perhaps a lesser man would wither under such attention, Hux seemed to revel in it.

Hux continued, scanning the audience instead of his note cards. The room was small, and the stage lights were not so bright that they impeded his ability to meet the eyes of his employees. “I am delighted to say that we’ve had an incredibly profitable quart--” 

Nor did they impede his ability to see Ben.

Their eyes locked. Hux’s smile faltered, his mouth parting in surprise. It felt like an eternity, but it lasted only the span of a single heartbeat, just long enough to make Ben feel like he’d been stabbed in the stomach.

Hux looked down at his cards and cleared his throat. “Quarter. But in order to maintain this momentum, we must do our best to analyze inefficiencies...”

***

This was by far the third worst day of Ben’s life. The first being the accident, the second being when his grandfather died, and now this. 

Hux had ended his presentation to wild applause and exited the stage with a polite smile and nod. Ben hadn’t let his eyes stray from him, but Hux did everything to avoid noticing Ben again. It was infuriating.

When the house lights came back up, Finn shoved a tray in Ben’s hands and said, “Dessert rounds.”

Ben could barely focus on the task at hand, instead darting through the crowd to find Hux again. Surely he would mingle afterward. 

When Ben dropped off an empty tray and retrieved a new one, he returned to the banquet hall to see a dash of red hair in the crowd. He made his way over to find Hux with a glass of wine in hand, chatting with a group of people. Charming, easy-going, friendly. Everything Ben knew he wasn’t.

Hux caught Ben’s eye again, and averted his gaze immediately, shifting his body away to put a hand on some woman’s arm.

Ben wanted to bash his skull in with a serving tray.

The next hour passed at an agonizing speed, Ben weaving through the people, handing out tiny pieces of revolting, overpriced food, constantly scanning the room for Hux. Every time he spotted him, though, Hux would move onto another group of people in the opposite direction. It was like Ben didn’t exist.

As one glass of wine turned to several, Ben noted, Hux’s face began to flush, his smile came more easily, and steadfastly ignoring Ben turned into a furtive glance now and again. But it did nothing to soothe the fact that middle-aged women continued hitting on Hux. One put her spray-tanned, wrinkled hand too low on his back. Another gripped his arm like she intended to drag him into a broom closet. A third kept smiling at him like she wanted to eat him alive. 

Eventually the crowd dwindled, and Ben was tasked with side-work between trays. He managed to keep an eye on the banquet hall through the window in the door of the kitchen, right where Hux was seated with the woman who had introduced him to the stage earlier. She was pretty in a bland way, the slightly grayed roots of her hair giving away the bleached blondness of the rest of it. 

Her wine glass was empty, elbow on the table, chin resting in her hand. Hux hadn’t so much as loosened his tie, but he sat leaning forward, speaking to her in hushed conversation. She laughed at something he said, then reached her hand out to put over his.

Ben shattered the ceramic bowl in his hand.

He tossed the pieces in the trash as Finn walked past with a new tray of food, but Ben took it away from him. 

“What the…”

“Just a sec,” Ben said, and spun to push backwards out the door.

When he reached Hux’s table, the woman had gone so far as to clasp Hux’s hand in both of hers, leaning in and whispering something in his ear. When she pulled away, Hux smiled, and Ben shoved a tray between them.

“Dessert?” Ben pointed at them as he listed. “We have tiramisù, chocolate ganache, and cheesecake with strawberry reduction and a dark chocolate glaze.”

Hux’s placating smile wavered, but righted as he looked up at Ben with the kind of blankness gas station cashiers generally reserved for customers getting a sixth round of scratch-offs. “What do you recommend?”

None of them. The only dessert Ben liked was sour candy. “The cheesecake.” He paused, and added,  _ “Sir. _ ”

“I’ll try that then,” Hux replied, a renewed sharpness to his tone.

Ben placed the tiny plate in front of Hux along with a fork. “And for you, ma’am?”

“Nothing for me,” the woman said, visibly irritated.

A moment passed where Ben wasn’t sure what to do with himself, the woman staring at him wondering why he was still there. Hux took a small bite of the cheesecake and pulled a face. He glared at Ben. “Is this what you’ve been serving?”

“I…” Ben took a step back. “Is it not to your liking?”

“It’s atrocious.” Hux stood and told the woman, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to have a discussion with the chef.” He crossed in front of Ben and lifted a hand to gesture that Ben follow.

So Ben did, trying and failing to avoid checking out Hux’s ass.

Which was, predictably and infuriatingly, nice. Great, even. Ben finally trained his eyes away.

Hux entered the kitchen, where chefs and servers alike were busy with clean-up, and paid them no notice. He stopped just long enough to take the tray from Ben’s hands and place it on a prep table, then he continued walking through the kitchen, exiting to a hallway and stopping at an open freight elevator. Ben followed him inside, where Hux hit the button for the highest floor.

Ben opened his mouth to speak, but Hux held up his hand.

“Not a word.”

So he closed his mouth again and waited patiently, sneaking curious glances at Hux who did not return them, instead opting to stare straight ahead.

Everything Ben wanted to say ran through his head, over and over again, words hovering on the edge of his tongue while it took every ounce of willpower he had not to utter them. A million years passed from the ground floor to the top of the building, and halfway up, Ben gave up staring at the numbers and instead stared at Hux, who continued refusing to acknowledge him.

Ben just couldn’t get over that not only was he real, he was standing mere feet away. They were breathing the same air. Standing under the same lights. They had phones in their pockets that held the exact same string of text messages between them, but neither of them was currently allowed to acknowledge any of it.

They finally, blessedly reached the top of the building, floor twenty-seven, and Hux exited the elevator. His dress shoes clacked against the tile and he walked a line straighter than Ben thought a person could do outside of DUI checkpoints. Ben followed silently, his non-slip shoes soundless as he kept a step behind.

Hux stopped at a door and pulled out a key card from his pocket. The pad on the wall blipped green and the door clicked. He opened it and held it for Ben to enter. They walked through another hallway of offices and cubicles, finally stopping at a corner office with a placard that read,  _ Brendol Hux II _ , and beneath it,  _ Chief Operating Officer. _

He opened the door again for Ben and gestured him inside. Hux’s office overlooked the city, floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned both sides of the room. A large L-shaped desk sat in the middle, along with a couch and a coffee table covered in business magazines.

“Sir--” Ben began. 

Hux leaned on his desk, arms crossed in front of his chest. “You will not speak unless spoken to, are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Ben mumbled. He couldn’t look away from Hux, the way the light hit his sunset-red hair, the sharp blue-green of his eyes. Ben had to ball his hands into fists to keep all of his warring emotions at bay--resentment, betrayal, jealousy, arousal. He had never restrained himself so much.

“First question,” Hux said, his eyes trailing all over Ben’s body and face in appraisal, like he was talking to a thing instead of a person. “Did you do this on purpose?”

Ben had to run the question over in his mind. “Did I sign on for a catering job just to stalk you?”

“That’s more or less what I asked, yes.”

“No!”

“You’re saying it was a coincidence.”

“Not a coincidence. Poe’s husband Finn got me the job.” He sighed. “Which probably means--”

“Poe referred the catering company to my event coordinators.”

Fucking Poe. “Yep.”

“And you took a paying job because...?”

“I promised Finn I would help out before we started talking.”

“And you are a man of your word. I understand. Second question, then. How are you feeling?”

The lack of tonal change threw Ben off. “What?”

“Given the events of last week, our earlier altercation, and now this, I’ve been concerned about you. I’d like to know how you’re doing.”

“Obviously, not great.”

Hux stood from the desk and took a step closer to Ben. “So tell me what you need.”

Ben watched as he continued closer. He’d seen that look before, on predatory animals, a slow easiness to their movements so their prey wouldn’t run away. 

“Why?” Ben asked, trying and failing to keep the nervousness out of his voice. His head was spinning from the realness of it all, Hux going from an abstract concept with an occasional voice to a real live human being who could see him and whom Ben could see in turn. It boggled him. He didn’t know what to do with himself. “Just a few hours ago, you said you didn’t want to meet me.”

“I didn’t. But now that it’s happened and we’re in private,” Hux said, stepping in Ben’s personal space. He was only a couple inches shorter than Ben, but thinner, even though he felt like he took up the whole room. “It would be a shame to waste such an opportunity.”

Ben backed into the wall, an entire weekend spent in a storm of emotional upheaval dissipating into the blinding brightness of this moment.

“Anything you ask for,” Hux added voice gone soft the way it did over the phone a couple days ago, eyes flicking down to Ben’s lips, “I’ll give.”

“I don’t understand,” Ben said, but it came out a whisper. It took every ounce of willpower not to reach out and touch Hux, and he mostly only managed because he didn’t know whether to kiss him or punch him.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Hux’s lips. “You are mine, and I take care of what I possess.”

“But why me?”

The small smile broadened, like Ben had challenged him. “Because you are pure light in a world of darkness.” He stopped just shy of Ben’s mouth, so Ben had to cross his eyes to see him clearly. “Now tell me: what do you need?”

Ben’s entire body trembled with the need to be touched. His cock throbbed in his pant leg. He felt like he might burn into ash. Devoid of all other questions, the chaos whirling around Ben’s mind settled abruptly into stillness, melting away to expose the searing hot remnant of a single thought: “Will you touch me?”

Hux hesitated, gaze boring into Ben, head tilted. 

“Please touch me…” It felt heavy on his tongue before he spoke it, poised to ruin him, shatter what little dignity he had remaining: “Daddy.”

Hux’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp, face flushed. “Say it again.”

“Daddy, please.”

Hux moved faster than Ben could comprehend, his fingers pulling at Ben’s belt. “Hands behind your back. Hold your left wrist with your right hand and do not let go.”

Ben did, mind blanking as Hux unbuttoned his pants and lowered his zipper, reaching into his underwear to cup his cock in hand. Ben’s head fell back, thudding against the wall, throat bobbing as he swallowed air.

Hux’s hand was rougher than he’d expected from someone who appeared to have spent most of his life behind a desk. He stroked Ben with confident, even pulls, each one eliciting a low, cracked moan from Ben.

“No one has ever touched you like this, have they?” Hux asked. He sounded a million miles away.

Ben shook his head. “No one.”

“And no one else will,” Hux added, hand slicking with Ben’s precome, tugging his foreskin over the head in a way that made Ben dizzy. It never felt this good when he did this for himself.

“No one,” Ben repeated. “I’m yours.”

“Say it again.”

Ben was inching dangerously close to coming already. “I’m yours.”

“Again.”

“I’m yours.” Ben squeezed his eyes shut, tears pricking the corners, breathing so heavily he neared hyperventilation. It was too much. He couldn’t handle it. “Please, I need to…”

“You know what I want.” Hux’s hand sped its pace, which sent Ben reeling. His knees threatened to give out, but Hux brought his forearm up and barred it over Ben’s throat, crushing him against the wall. 

His heaving turned to struggling for air, squeezing his wrist so tightly behind him he lost circulation in his hand. “Daddy, please.” 

Hux pressed harder against him. “Beg.”

Ben sputtered and gasped, hips rocking into Hux’s fist, pace rhythmic and merciless. “Please, Daddy, please I need to come, I’m so close I need--”

“If I let you come, will you be a good boy for me from now on?”

“Yes, I’ll be so good for you. Please, please…” 

Hux slowed his movements to a torturous crawl, so slow that Ben whimpered from the sudden lack of friction. “Tell me I own you.”

Ben broke, tears cresting over his eyelids and falling down his face. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He didn’t know his own name anymore. “You own me. I’m yours, Daddy.”

His whole world had narrowed into the palm of Hux’s hand, which was exactly where he belonged. 

“Good.” Hux’s movements sped again. “Come for me.”

Ben took in what little air he could to cry out, but Hux covered his mouth. Ben shouted into it as he came, nails digging sharply into his wrist.

“Shh,” Hux said as he coaxed the remaining come from Ben’s cock, slowing to an even rhythm.

Ben twitched from overstimulation, moans turning to pitiful pleading sounds.

Hux finally let go. “On your knees.”

It wasn’t a problem, because Ben couldn’t hold himself up anyway. He kept hold of his wrist and sank to the ground, sitting on his heels and using all his effort to keep himself upright. His face felt tight with drying sweat and tear tracks, jaw slack, eyes glazed over, heaving breaths. 

Hux held out his messed hand in front of Ben’s face. “You know what to do.”

Ben glanced at his own glistening release for a moment before leaning forward and licking it up. He used just the tip of his tongue at first, cringing at the taste. He started with Hux’s palm, then licked and sucked each of Hux’s fingers in turn. When Hux’s hand was all cleaned off, he took a handkerchief out of his inside breast pocket and dried himself.

Ben caught an eyeful of the bulge in Hux’s pants and nodded toward it. “Can I…”

“Absolutely not,” Hux replied, clipped as he stuffed his handkerchief back in his pocket. “I need to finish the rest of this evening’s activities. You are to stay in this room for exactly seven minutes after I leave. You will drink an entire bottle of water from the refrigerator behind my desk, and you will text me tomorrow morning. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Ben said, still dazed.

“Ah ah,” Hux corrected.

Ben was too spent to fight it. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Very good,” Hux said, and without another word, without another touch, left.

***

When Ben made his way back downstairs, Finn was leaning against the van playing on his phone. He looked up as Ben approached, scanning him up and down, noting his rumpled shirt and mussed hair and overall wreck of an appearance, and said, “I don’t want to know.”


	7. Chapter 7

Ben didn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, his heart started pounding and his breath came out in quick gasps. He couldn’t get Hux out of his head. Hux, with his sharp features and easy charm, more attractive than even Ben’s abstract mental image of him. Hux, with his unyielding confidence never mistaken for arrogance because he had everything to back it up. Hux, hurting him. Humiliating him. Owning him.

He sat up in bed, face in his hands, trying to gather what little semblance of himself he could put together. Just a month ago, his biggest problem was a few overdraft fees, a mile-high pile of homework, Rey singing in the shower too early in the morning. All of his complaints were so petty. Moreover, they were singular. There was no complication to them; Ben trudged through them as best he could with a small bit of pride knowing he was taking care of himself, taking care of Rey.

He didn’t know whether to love Hux or hate him. Mostly, he just hated himself for getting into this situation, for being naive enough to think it wasn’t a trap. After a lifetime of emotional manipulation by his mother, Ben had thought he’d be able to spot it easier, that he wouldn’t be so pliant and trusting. 

It was what his mother loved about him. It was what Snoke saw in him. And it was the reason Hux chose him. 

Ben checked the clock on his phone, a little after three in the morning. He pulled up a text to Hux.

_ I want to see you again. _

***

Hux apparently slept sometimes, because he didn’t reply until six in the morning. The vibration under his pillow startled Ben from his fretful doze. 

Hux had replied with a simple  _ No. _

And even though Ben was groggy, he managed to type,  _ Why not? _

_ Because that was not part of the deal. _

_ Things change. You got my mentor arrested. I know what you look like now, where you work. None of that was part of the deal either. _

He waited a minute for Hux to reply. No little ellipses bubble, just the ominous _delivered_ under the message. 

He blinked. And again, but slower. Once more, and his eyes stayed shut. He dropped his phone on the bed beside him and fell back asleep.

***

Days passed. Ben texted Hux several times.

_ Well? _

No answer.

_ You don’t want to see me again. Is it me?  _

Again, no answer.

_ Why are you doing this? I’ve been good for you. I’ve done everything you asked. _

Nothing.

Eventually, he picked up some food and used Hux’s expense card, breathing a sigh of relief that it still worked. He called the bursar to make sure his most recent tuition payment had gone through and that next month’s was on its way. He checked with his landlord, who had been given rent right on time. 

Hux was still out there, still Ben’s sugar daddy, but no longer wanted anything to do with him. Ben shouldn’t have been surprised; he tended to have this effect on people. Get too close, they found out who he was and what he was really like, and they backed off. 

_ Is this punishment for something?  _ Ben asked while failing to study one evening.  _ If so, it’s not working because I don’t know what I did wrong. If you would tell me what I did, what you found so appalling about me, I would do everything I could to fix it. You know I would. _

Again, no response.

Ben’s history class with Snoke was taken over by Phasma. There were rumors, whispers, people glancing in his direction because it had gotten around that Ben had been at Snoke’s house the night before he was arrested.

He and Rey were walking out of the history building, Rey chatting animatedly about prefrontal lobotomies. A group of freshman girls were whispering to each other and pointing at Ben. He was prepared to ignore them, as he’d done since the rumors began, as he’d been trained his entire life to not acknowledge the bullies hellbent on making his life terrible, but Rey, who had never dealt with Ben’s lifetime of being on the wrong end of torment, had enough.

“Stop it!” she shouted at them. “We can see you, you filthy voyeurs! Go rant about it on Yik Yak like everyone else!”

The girls, shocked, herded into the building. Ben looked at Rey, whose face was reddened with anger. “Wow.”

“Sorry,” Rey mumbled, and continued walking.

Ben met her pace. Easily, because he was half a foot taller than her. “Don’t be sorry. That’s right out of a page in Ben Solo’s Guide to Spontaneous Outbursts. Nothing’s broken, though, so you obviously haven’t read the whole book.”

“Oh, don’t be self-deprecating, you haven’t had an episode in years, not since the…” she trailed off, the word  _ accident _ hanging in the air between them. They didn’t like to talk about it.

“Yeah, and now I have a lifelong ban from St. Josephine’s Samaritan.”

“It’s a terrible hospital anyway. Who honestly believes Jell-O is a dessert?” 

They stopped at Rey’s next classroom, even though it was the exact opposite direction of Ben’s. He enjoyed making sure she got to class okay, when he had the time to walk with her. She reached up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “See you after class. Love you.”

This was normally where Ben would stop in a bathroom and take his daily selfie, but he figured Hux wouldn’t care anyway, so he didn’t bother. Instead, he hung out in the library, scrolling through their entire history of texts.

When he reached the end, feeling more alone than he maybe ever had (he'd always felt alone, but now he was  _ aware _ of it), he swallowed his pride and typed,  _ Please, Daddy. _

Hux replied immediately,  _ While I appreciate the attempt, your desperation is unbecoming. _

Fucking finally.  _ Bullshit. This is exactly what you want from me. _

_ A fair observation, but I am afraid the correct answer is, “Thank you for replying, Daddy.” _

_ I’ll thank you when I feel you deserve thanks. Why have you been ignoring me? _

_ You want my attention yet you seem unwilling to perform in such a way that I would be compelled to give it. Aside from that, personal reasons. _

_ Will you quit saying that?  _

_ No. _

Ben ground his teeth together.  _ You’re always wanting me to tell you what I need. What if I said I needed you, in person? _

_ That depends. _

_ On what? _

_ Do you? _

_ Do I need you? _

_ Yes. You posed the question, and I am giving you the answer. If you mean it, tell me you need me and see what happens. _

_ I hate your fucking mind games. _

_ The only reason the mouse runs the maze is to get the cheese. Otherwise it would not move except to escape. _

_ I hate your shitty pretentious analogies too. _

_ Unless you have more childish epithets to impress on me, I have a meeting to attend. _

Ben clicked off his phone and pocketed it in his seven-hundred-dollar hoodie, biding his anger enough to avoid chucking it out the window. 

***

Ben lay reading on his bed later that night when a loud knocking echoed in the apartment.

Rey barged in his room, panicked. “I’m so sorry, Benny. I didn’t mean to, it just--”

Ben’s eyes widened. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t know what to say! You know how she is!” 

He threw his book down and got out of bed. “You didn’t.” Rey followed him through the apartment. Ben looked through the peephole, confirming the worst case scenario, and whispered, “What all did you tell her?”

“Just our address, I promise.” 

Ben spun on her. She gasped and took a step back, face pinched trying not to cry. “That’s it. That’s all, I promise. I didn’t give her your new phone number.”

He clenched his jaw as he assessed the situation. The knocking escalated to pounding, so he turned toward the door, hands balled into fists.

“She was worried about you, Benny. I was too. I didn’t know what else to tell her.”

“Maybe not where we _live_.” He stood silent, listening. Rey opened her mouth to say something else, and he held up a hand, “Just...shut up, okay? Maybe she’ll go away.”

Muffled behind the door, Leia called, “Benjamin Bail Solo, open this door right now!”

“Fuck,” Ben said. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

A small sob escaped her. She covered her face in his hands, shoulders shrugged up, shaking her head. “I didn’t know she would come so soon. I thought we could set up a time to meet. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Well it’s too fucking late for that,” Ben bit out, and immediately regretted it. He’d deal with it later.

He rested his hand on the knob, took a steadying breath, and opened the door.

Leia Organa glared at him from the other side, arms crossed, purse dangling from her elbow. She wore a pantsuit, which told Ben she’d just come back from some bullshit event, and in turn that told him he was in for a debilitating verbal lashing.

“Well?” she asked. “Are you going to invite me in?”

Ben stepped aside, silent and resigned. Dealing with his mother was more or less like getting caught by the police: anything he said could--and would--be used against him.

Rey curled up in a ball on the couch, trying to calm herself. Leia glanced at her, then back to Ben. “What did you do to her? Have you been hurting her?”

And just like that, she shattered his defenses by going straight for Rey, his strongest bait, forcing him to defend himself. The emotional warfare had already begun. “I didn’t do anything to her. You know I would never do anything to her.”

“Rey?” Leia asked. “Has he been hurting you? I know how he gets. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Rey shook her head and stood from the couch, shooting one last tearful, apologetic glance at Ben before running off. From the corner of his eye, he caught her grabbing his cell phone from the table on her way into her bedroom. Ben didn’t take it personally; the longer she stayed in the same room as them, the more Leia would continue to use her as a manipulation tactic. Taking his phone was a safety precaution; his mother was not above rooting through it right in front of him.

“This isn’t how I wanted to do this, Ben,” Leia said, scanning the room with a thinly veiled look of disdain.

“You mean you didn’t want to have a happy reunion by manipulating your niece into giving you our address and barging in on us unannounced?”

“Give her some credit. She’s not a wilted flower. I called her, I talked to her, she told me where you live, and I informed her I might stop by. It’s not my fault she didn’t tell you.” She craned her neck to look at the pile of dishes in the sink, then skirted by Ben and set her purse on a chair, shrugging off her jacket and rolling up her sleeves. “I would have told you myself, but my entire reason for this visit is to discuss the shocking revelation that your phone has been off.”

Ben kept silent, leaning against a wall as he watched Leia stop up the sink and fill it with soap and water.

“You can imagine my worry,” she added, picking up a dish and scrubbing it.

“It’s not 1977. You could have sent an email.”

She scoffed. “Like you would have replied.”

“If it would have kept you from coming over, fuck yes I would have.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Why are you doing my dishes?”

“Because they need doing.”

Ben couldn’t help himself. “And there it is: your entire life boiled down to four words about basic household maintenance.”

Leia sidestepped the insult. “Are you taking your meds?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Going to all your appointments?”

“Yes, Mom.”

It was just padding for the next question. “I saw Dr. Snoke was arrested recently. Did you have anything to do with that?”

“No, Mom.”

“He hurt a lot of people, Ben. If he did anything to you--”

“I had nothing to do with it, all right?” Ben cringed. He sounded too defensive. It was incriminating. He hated lying; he was terrible at it, and moreover, Leia always caught him.

She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe any of it. “I won’t press. He’s not going to hurt anyone else and that’s what counts.” She rinsed a plate and put it on the drying rack. “But he was your advisor, right? Have you gotten a new one?”

“How did you even know that?”

“You won a scholarship. They posted it on the history department’s webpage.”

“You check the history site?”

“My ex-husband is off parole, god-knows-where having what I assume is a mid-life crisis which will soon turn to an end-of-life crisis if he doesn’t get his act together. My brother is on hiatus at a Buddhist monastery in the Himalayas. My parents are dead, and my only son doesn’t want to speak to me. I have a bit of time on my hands.”

Ben put his hand over his heart and clucked his tongue. “Your passive aggressive guilt trip wounds me. I have seen the error of my ways and all is well. We should go out for coffee sometime and get caught up.”

Too far. Leia looked up, a fraction of a second worth of blind hope on her face before the sarcasm settled, her stoic facade returning as she fell silent, finishing up the dishes and wiping her hands off with a paper towel. She opened the trash can lid to throw it away and paused, head tilted.

He was about to consider apologizing when she picked up the cell phone box and read the top of it. “B. Hux?” She looked at him. “Of First Order Enterprises?”

Ben’s heart leapt into his throat. “I--”

“Do you know what First Order even is? An explosives manufacturer. Their primary client is the United States government. They make weapons of mass destruction--we’re talking napalm. What could you possibly have to do with them?”

Ben refused to answer. He couldn’t think of a lie good enough. If he took the box away from her, she’d get even more suspicious.

She continued inspecting the box. “This is for a cell phone. Why did First Order buy you a cell phone? Do you work for them?”

Ben bit his tongue.

“You know I’ve been fighting to ratify the UN Arms Trade Treaty since we signed it in 2013. Until we do, the US is a danger to this planet, and if you’re working for a major corporate player in this battle--”

“I’m not working for them,” Ben said, and hated himself for it. He should have just gone with it. Working for an explosives company was infinitely better than the truth.

“So why did this Hux person buy you a cell phone?”

Ben didn’t answer. He stared blankly at her, watching her piece the puzzle together. Tense seconds passed, Ben unconsciously clutching his wrist behind his back, sweating with nervousness and wracking his brain to think of any way out of this.

“Oh,” Leia said. “Oh my god. Is he your boyfriend? Are you seriously dating someone who could  _ destroy the world?”  _

Ben began to tremble, and he felt the little twitch in his forehead that he sometimes got before he lost it. Blurred vision, quick breaths, chest tight, eyes on the border of tearing up. 

“God, I can’t believe this,” Leia continued. “You’re a traitor to this family. No, you’re a traitor to this  _ country _ .” She pointed the box in his direction. Everything turned to slow motion as Ben recalled all the times his mother had yelled at him, humiliated him, accused him of innate wrongness, like he was a disease in her life. “You--”

“I think you should leave,” he said, voice wavering. Maybe if she left now, he could settle the fire again before it took over.

“The hell I’m going to leave. I just got here.” She continued talking, but Ben could no longer hear the words, like she was under water. She kept pointing the damn box at him, shaking it at him like a dog who peed on a pair of shoes.

He snatched it from her and threw it across the room. “Get out!”

“Excuse me?”

He stepped into her space, nearly a whole foot taller than her. He’d never lay a hand on her, but sometimes he tried to make her think he would, just so she’d do what he said. “I said, get out.”

“Benjamin, we need to talk this--”

He took her purse and jacket from the chair, opened the front door, and threw them in the hallway, pointing after them. “Get out!”

She didn’t budge. “Don’t talk to me like that. I need you to calm down--”

Oh, and there it went, that last slip of reality melting into nothingness. Some people called it  _ snapping _ , but it never felt like that. It felt more like changing from one state of being to the next. Water to ice. Wood to ash. 

He thought he might have been shouting, “GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT--”

She kept trying to talk to him, to calm him like she always did. When he was little, she’d have to take him and hold him in her lap, her arms around him while he thrashed and screamed and cried, but he was too big for that now. No one could hold him down anymore.

He threw the plates his mother had just washed in her general direction without directly aiming for her. They hit the wall and shattered. Glasses followed, beer bottles, anything that could break. He was vaguely aware of punching his fist through the drywall, just to show he could. He thought he might have broken a lamp. 

Leia began crying. Rey had come into the room begging him to stop. She was crying too. Ben might have been crying as well, but he couldn’t tell. Maybe he was just bleeding. He hoped he was bleeding. He’d rather bleed than cry.

He’d always told his therapists that in a rage, he lost control over what he was doing, but it was a lie. He had complete control of himself. He made a choice what to pick up, what to throw. What to break. How much he hurt himself or others. But what he really lost in his rages, what he’d never told another soul, was his ability to care. 

A pounding on the door echoed louder than the shouting. Rey opened it and Poe and Finn shoved their way in. Everyone started shouting at him, but that just made him yell louder. He took a swing at Poe, but before it landed, Finn tackled him to the ground. Grappling was involved. Shards of glass dug into his back and cut up his expensive t-shirt. He paid no mind to his shredded skin or tattered integrity. His throat was raw. He wanted it all to stop, but it was too late.

Through the chaos, a single word pierced the air--a commanding, familiar voice that felt too far away, too impossible to be in his apartment. That voice belonged to his other life, not this one. 

_ “Ben!” _

He stopped grappling with Poe and Finn. In his stunned state, he took a fist to the face and barely registered it, the entire scope of his vision overcome with the towering, menacing figure of Hux.


	8. Chapter 8

“Get up,” Hux said.

Poe and Finn scrambled to their feet, Poe muttering, “Oh god, finally.”

Ben was slower to stand, given that his movements were impeded by the glass in his back. Hux didn’t take his gaze off of Ben, like no one else in the room existed, yet he addressed them next. “Mr. and Mr. Dameron, it is always good to see you. Ms. Skywalker and Senator Organa, it is a pleasure to have met you, though unfortunate given the circumstances. Please forgive me that I must ask you now to leave.”

“Look, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, stepping in this like you have any authority--” Leia began, but Poe grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her toward the door.

“C’mon, Ms. O. I think we oughta leave now.”

Rey helped push her toward the door too, the other hand wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweater as she sniffled. “There’s a lovely diner down the street. Maybe we can all have a bite and get caught up with one another, yeah?”

“I am not leaving my son!” Leia shouted.

“With all due respect, Senator,” Finn began, “your presence is triggering to your son right now, and the safest way to fix it is for all of us to leave.”

Leia stopped struggling, betrayed, looking at the three of them in turn as they created a barrier between her and Ben.

“Trust me,” Poe said, “they got a thing. Let’s just leave them to it.”

“Please,” Rey pleaded.

Ben met his mother's eyes as her expression dissolved from anger to disappointment, finally settling on defeat. Leia left, Poe, Finn, and Rey following behind.

Ben now stood alone with Hux, who continued looking at him like he were something stuck on the bottom of Hux's shoe.

“Knees. Now.”

Ben sunk to his knees without thought.

“You may speak,” Hux said, in a monotone, as if he weren't talking to a person and not a vicious, untamed animal.

Ben sounded small and weak as he asked, “How did you get here?”

Hux replied calmly, the same way he had at his banquet and not like he was standing in the middle of a newly wrecked shit-hole apartment. He looked like a Greek statue in a decaying foreclosure. “I was notified first by Ms. Skywalker from your phone that she was concerned for your well-being, and then several minutes later by Mr. Dameron who heard a commotion coming from your apartment.” For the first time, Hux glanced around the room, and Ben felt a renewed sense of shame. He’d never intended for Hux to see his apartment, and certainly not in its current state. “But by then I was already on my way.”

“You don’t seem surprised by this.”

Hux huffed a sardonic laugh. “I’m in explosives, Ben. I know a bomb when I see one.”

The remorse hadn’t set in yet. It usually didn’t until later. Ben thought briefly of Rey, how he could make this up to her, maybe. He didn’t deserve her love. He didn’t deserve her.

“Tell me what you need,” Hux added, soft again, soothing Ben just enough that he felt the strong urge to melt into the floor and never move again.

Instead, he looked up at Hux, an enormous shadow above him. He’d never felt smaller in his life. The pain started seeping in at the edges, the cuts in his back, the bruises all over his body, his throbbing cheek. Their eyes met, and Ben relayed the only thing he knew he needed: “Break me.”

Hux’s lips twitched minutely, a dark desire clouding his features that was sexual only in its pure delight. He shrugged off his jacket and placed it over a chair, then rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

“You will tell me if you need me to stop, yes?”

Ben nodded.

“Say it.”

“Yes, s-- _Daddy_.” It came more easily each time he said it, as if some heavy piece of himself broke off with every utterance, until eventually he’d just become a pile of shattered parts, like the dishes littering the ground. It made him feel lighter, though--his conceptions of right and wrong slowly beaten out of him.

“Good,” Hux replied as he reeled his hand back. Before Ben could brace himself, he brought it down across Ben’s cheek.

Ben’s head snapped to the side, his ears ringing. The room spun. He shook himself to get it to stop.

“What do you say?” Hux asked.

He felt the words torn from him, like pulling a dead tooth. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Hux lifted his hand again, then swung it down in the opposite direction across Ben’s face. He wore a ring that met Ben’s lip and split it open. Copper flooded his mouth, slid down his chin.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he said again, this time wet and frail.

The slapping continued, back and forth. Hux clapped his ears, disoriented him, hit him until every muscle in Ben’s neck and shoulders ached, until he felt his eyes grow puffy with tears and light bruising, face stinging with the imprint of thin fingers and a single ring.

 _Thank you, Daddy_ lost all meaning. It was a benign utterance, an empty prayer. Some people had their Hail Marys, but all Ben had was his Thank You Daddys, and he didn’t know how many he had to say to become absolved of his sins.

The pain chased away any remaining thought or emotion left in him; what remained was a blissful beacon of light: gratitude. Gratitude toward his defeat. Gratitude toward his punishment. Gratitude toward Hux.

Hux took out his handkerchief and wiped his hands clean of Ben’s blood and sweat. All Ben could think while watching this through tear-blurred vision was a dull hope that his face hadn’t damaged Hux’s hands.

“Stand,” Hux said. Ben did, but he wobbled on his feet. Hux didn’t try to steady him. “To the couch.” Hux pointed to the side of it, and Ben shuffled over, knees cracking, thighs burning from keeping him balanced through his beating. “Over the armrest, forehead to the cushion, hands clasped behind your neck.”

Ben leaned over the side of the couch. The upholstery felt cool on his warmed-over face. He tried not to get any blood on it, but it didn’t matter anyway--he’d purchased it for twenty bucks at a garage sale. It was hideous and floral and deserved to be in a dump.

He knew what was coming, but he didn’t particularly care. Thoughts and emotions were beyond him now. They belonged to someone else.

Hux slipped behind him and kicked the insides of his feet. Ben spread them apart, feeling a gentle tug as Hux pulled the elastic of his sweatpants down to his thighs, then rucked his t-shirt up to his armpits. He was more exposed than he had been on webcam, the position humiliating and uncomfortable. The heavy clatter of a buckle followed, then the sharp snap of a belt from its loops.

Ben had never been beaten with a belt. His father always threatened, and his grandfather threatened more, but no one had ever laid a hand on him except the people defending themselves against him.

When Hux made no move to begin, Ben choked out, “Are you going to do it or not?”

“Did I say you could speak?”

“No, but--”

“Were you under the impression you could goad me into action?”

“No--”

“Have you any regard for the weight of your wrongdoings?”

The question threw Ben off. “I don’t know.”

“Very well. You will.” A warm hand gently touched Ben’s backside, the only kind touch Hux had ever given him--reverent, caring, sliding to his hip and wrapping around it. That beyond all else brought Ben to his senses. He didn’t want to be touched like this. He didn’t deserve it. “Tell me what you need.”

“I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice. Without choice, there would be no true penance. Your punishment must be your own doing.” When Ben didn’t reply, Hux caressed him, a small movement of his thumb that hurt Ben worse than the entire beating so far. “Goodness and purity are not one and the same, Ben. The pure man lacks control. He is a slave to the depth of his passions. Goodness is thus an affectation.”

“What about evil?”

Hux gripped Ben’s hip, his nails digging into flesh. The wool of his pants graced Ben’s skin in a way that sent a shiver up his body. “There is no evil, only those who have not learned the performance of mercy.”

“Have you?” Ben managed, though he could barely hear himself over the sound of blood rushing through his ears.

“No.”

Hux stepped away, and without further notice, cracked the belt hard against Ben’s ass.

Ben shouted in pain, almost moving his hands from their position behind his neck to scrabble at the couch. He writhed against it instead, toes curling into the carpet as the stinging wake of the belt spread to a harsh throb.

“I will notice if you attempt to find peace within your mind,” Hux said. “Your attention must be trained to the task at hand. Count your strikes.”

Ben replied weakly, “One.”

The next strike fell directly over the first, but instead of shouting, Ben let out a muffled cry and said, “Two.”

The third, lower on his legs. The fourth, slightly higher. Hux changed his angle from horizontal to vertical across each side of him, forehanded and backhanded so the pressure remained inconsistent. Somewhere near eleven, Ben started crying. It was a foreign feeling. Normally he gritted his teeth and let remorse flee to anger and bubble into rage; there was nothing to be done here but lie splayed out for Hux to break, degrade, humiliate.

Every time Ben considered standing up and taking the belt from him, distinct images of beating Hux with it in turn, he remembered he chose this for himself. He asked for this. He needed it.

So he cried, cracked sobs between wept numbers. He dug his fingernails into the back of his neck, body aching with tension, always poised between waiting for the next strike and recovering from the previous, cresting over the top of a hill but never being given the satisfaction of rolling down it.

While Ben had dreamed of something like this for as long as he could remember, now that it was in his grasp, it lost its sexuality and gained a profound intimacy. He barely knew Hux, but he trusted him with this, his forfeit, his absolution. Hux became less a person to him than an open door to something greater, some higher purpose that could only be attained through the dissolution found in torture.

Hux remained silent, not even a grunted breath at the power of his swings. Occasionally Ben could feel the rough scratch of Hux’s pants against his welts, the small touch powerful enough to set his whole body on fire.

At the final strike, Ben felt like a cup upturned of contents, and whispered, “Thirty.” His voice came from far away, and the sound of the belt dropping to the ground even farther.

“Don’t move,” Hux said with the same complacency as earlier, as if he hadn’t just beaten Ben within an inch of his sanity. He stepped away, Ben didn’t know where. He didn’t care. All he knew was blissful inner calmness, sweet mental silence after a lifetime of fury.

He heard water running. Moments later, Hux returned. “I want you to stand.” When Ben tried, Hux amended, “Slowly.”

Ben removed his hands from the back of his neck and touched them to the couch, which was soaked through with blood, sweat, and saline. Every inch of his body screamed at his attempt to move, but he managed to stand. Hux was in front of him immediately, lifting the hem of Ben’s shirt over his head, helping him out of his sweats. Never touching him. Never meeting his eyes.

“Wh--” Ben began.

“No speaking,” Hux interrupted.

Ben acknowledged that in any other situation, he would react with immediate anger at being told to shut up, but now it was just a burden lifted from his shoulders. No worrying what to say, how to say it, how to phrase it, how to make it mean what he intended, what to ask to make sure he understood exactly what was happening every second of every day. He never realized until now how much effort he expended controlling himself and his environment.

But with Hux, he could just...let go.

“Follow,” Hux instructed, and Ben stumbled after him on wobbling legs toward the bathroom. A bath had been drawn, steam rising from the clear water, and Hux gestured to it with his head. “Step in. Sit down.”

Ben stepped in and lowered himself slowly, acutely aware of what he was about to experience. When his thighs and ass met the hot water, he squeezed his eyes shut and gasped, then gritted his teeth and sank all the way down.

“That’s it,” Hux said, sweeter than before. “Very good.”

Once Ben was settled in the tub, immediate, overwhelming relief washed over him. He let out a soft groan.

Hux addressed his face first, dipping a washcloth in the water and wiping the blood from his lip and chin, the dried tears from his cheeks, the sweat from his brow.

“Lean forward,” Hux said, still low.

Ben tucked his knees to his chest and placed his chin between them. He could feel small pricks of pain as Hux dug out the remaining pieces of ceramic and glass, and set each one on a little square of toilet paper on the sink. He reached in the tub and inspected Ben’s feet too. One shard of glass had imbedded itself into the heel of Ben’s left foot, and Hux dug it out. A small cloud of red stained the clear water.

Hux took each of Ben’s hands next, running a thumb gently over his knuckles. Ben was mildly relieved to find they hadn’t split or bruised, which meant he hadn’t punched anyone this time. Flecks of white dust reminded him distantly of the cracked drywall. Hux turned them over in his own hands, clean but for the drying blood caked in his nails. Hux’s fingers, in contrast to Ben’s big clumsy ones, were thin and long, the backs of his hands pale and freckled, his palms rough and callused in a way that Ben’s weren’t. The ring Ben remembered splitting his lip was on Hux's left ring finger, and it occurred to him that it was significant somehow, but he couldn’t remember why.

When Hux had finished inspecting him, he took the washcloth and scrubbed a little bit of bar soap on it, then proceeded to wash Ben’s back. It stung minutely, but the roughness of the cloth on his sensitive skin felt more cleansing than painful.

Hux continued to bathe him with a peaceful, slow easiness, a meditation of movement. He looked at Ben like one might look at a beloved possession--waxing a car, cleaning a gun, sharpening a knife. Impersonal, but cared for.

He scrubbed Ben’s nails clean last, each one individually. Ben noticed a smudge of blood on Hux's pressed white shirt, where his sleeve was rolled up. Shocked remorse hit Ben in full force, so intense his breath stopped in his throat.

Without thinking, he said, “I’m sorry I stained your shirt.”

Hux looked at him in surprise, as if he had forgotten Ben was even there. “What?”

“Your shirt. There’s blood on it.”

Hux glanced at his sleeve. “Oh.”

Ben tried to breathe, airflow interrupted by sudden sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry--” He rested his forehead on his knees and rocked himself, muttering, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to be afraid of myself anymore.”

“Ben.” Hux tilted Ben’s chin toward him. Their faces were so close, all Ben had to do for their lips to meet was lean forward.

Instead, Ben whispered, “I don’t want to be feared anymore.”

Hux smiled, a barely perceptible movement of his lips that bordered on fondness. “I’m not afraid of you.”

***

Washing done, Hux said, “Stand.”

Ben did, at the protest of his muscles. Hux pulled the drain, then took a towel and dried Ben, careful around the welts on his ass and thighs.

“Out. Follow me,” Hux instructed, dropping the towel on the ground.

Ben followed Hux straight to his own bedroom, unsure how Hux knew where it was but also apathetic, exhaustion weighing heavily on him.

Other than his tantrums, Ben didn’t consider himself a neat freak so much as a minimalist. His room consisted of a desk, a bed, a stack of crates beside it, and a lamp on top. Hux opened his closet to find the clothes he had purchased for Ben, a neat line of shirts followed by pants hung in half on a set of matching hangers. The simple domesticity of Hux going through his belongings, bereft of judgment or criticism, felt nearly as intimate as the beating.

Hux pulled open the top drawer of a small dresser and took out a clean pair of briefs, then knelt down and helped Ben into them. Ben hissed at the fabric skating across his rear, but once they were situated, he was fine.

Hux let his touch linger for an extra beat at Ben’s hips, head tilted while he absently appraised Ben’s body, then pulled himself away and said, “Lie down.”

Ben crawled under his covers, Hux holding them up for him. The sheets were cool and soft against his warmed-over body, the throbbing aches all over him. Hux covered him and moved to leave.

Ben caught his wrist. “Wait.”

Hux stared in confusion at Ben’s hand on him, and asked, “What?”

“Stay. Please.”

“Why?”

Ben’s brain couldn’t think that fast, couldn’t come up with a clever answer other than the harsh, blunt truth, the only thing he knew would get Hux to stay: “I need you.”

Maybe it was the desperation in Ben’s voice, or the sincerity of his words, but Hux sat at the edge of the bed, body turned toward him. “I can’t stay long.”

“I know. Just...until I fall asleep.”

Hux hesitated. “All right.”

Ben still had hold of his wrist, and shifted his grip to Hux’s hand. Hux didn’t grasp his hand in turn, nor did he move to let go. Ben took it as a small victory.


	9. Chapter 9

Before Ben opened his eyes, he braced himself for the impending drop of immense remorse he always felt the day after a tantrum. He never regretted his own actions so much as the extreme reactions of all the people involved, like a hangover you blamed on the bartender for not refilling your water enough.

When he finally did open his eyes, he found he was, predictably, alone. And, also predictably, he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. The rest of him though, the dark knot of conflict that he’d expected to well up, was just...absent. Replaced with lightness, peace, calm.

What unnerved him was the silence. Normally when he woke up every morning, Rey was singing in the shower, or singing while making breakfast, or flitting about the apartment cleaning (while singing). For someone so small, she made an obnoxious amount of noise. 

Ben threw off his covers and sat up, wincing at the dull ache in his backside, the stiffness of his muscles. He stepped out into the living room, dreading the trainwreck he’d created, eyes squeezed shut until he was prepared to see it. Hand bracing himself on the wall, he opened them to find...nothing.

No shards of glass or ceramic. All furniture put back in place. Holes in the walls plastered over. The broken lamp replaced by a new, nicer one. The trash taken out. Precise, parallel vacuum lines across the carpet. 

He didn’t even own a vacuum. Moreover, how had he not woken up by the sound of one?

Ben slowly made his way to the kitchen, which was similarly spotless. As best as he could remember, he’d broken most of their dishware, but he opened the cabinet to find everything replaced with a brand new set. Before, they’d used whatever they had found from thrift stores, but real matching plates and mugs and glasses stood in neat stacks on the shelves in front of him. 

He hesitantly took down a new mug with a simple floral design, then opened the other cabinet that normally contained his bulk supply of cheap, generic coffee. It was gone, replaced by a Keurig pod dispenser, which confused him because he didn’t own a Keurig. But then he turned around, prepared to see the ancient coffee pot he scored at a yard sale, and instead found a goddamn Keurig. 

For the life of him, Ben couldn’t imagine Hux going out to Walmart in the middle of the night, in his suit and tie, holding a little list of replacement items. He also couldn’t imagine Hux lugging all of his purchases in multiple trips into the apartment, then meticulously cleaning and fixing and replacing everything old or damaged. And then when he was done, taking the trash to the dumpster on his way out. Ben couldn’t even imagine Hux driving his own car.

But there was no other explanation. It must have taken  _ hours _ .

Ben looked around for his phone, but every surface was completely cleared, except for the roses which somehow survived unscathed. He remembered he’d given his phone to Rey, so he ventured to her room. As usual, clothes, books, and papers littered every inch of flooring, and Ben was slightly calmed that Hux hadn’t touched Rey’s space. 

Ben’s phone lay among the messy pink sheets of her bed, and he picked it up to find two texts. The first was from Rey, shortly after she had left:  _ Staying downstairs with Poe and Finn. _

No  _ I love you _ or  _ xoxoxo _ or a string of heart emojis. She might as well have said,  _ I hate you and I never want to speak to you again _ for all it meant in the language of Rey.

The second text was from Poe, which read,  _ Nobody hurt but you should probs call your mom tho and Rey is here _

Nothing from Hux. Nothing from Leia, which meant Rey hadn’t given her his new number. He opened Hux’s text thread to find an interaction he hadn’t participated in:  _ This is Ben’s cousin Rey. Ben is having trouble right now and when he gets like this he’s impossible to stop. I know you two are more or less dating and I hate to drag you into this but we’re going to need all the help we can get. If you’re not busy please consider stopping by. Maybe you can calm him down. _

To which Hux had replied immediately,  _ I will be there shortly. _

Ben sat on Rey’s bed and texted Hux,  _ I’m sorry. I never meant for you to see me like that.  _ Then he switched to Rey and hesitated, mentally crafting a detailed justification for his actions followed by a lengthy apology, but instead settled on silence to give her some space.

Hux replied,  _ What are your plans this evening? _

_ Nothing scheduled. _

_ Good. Wear a suit. I will have a car pick you up at 8.  _

***

Ben had nothing to do. For the first time since he’d started college, he was bored senseless. And not the kind of boredom where you didn’t  _ want _ to do anything, but the kind where all the things you wanted or had to do simply weren’t able to be done.

So he fell back asleep.

He woke up again when he heard movement in the apartment, and opened his eyes to see Rey on her way out the door, her messenger bag over one shoulder and a duffel over the other. 

“Hey, wait,” Ben said, sitting up, an adrenaline surge of immediate panic waking him fully. 

She stopped as if he’d caught her doing something wrong. “What,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“Can we, I don’t know, talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m staying with Aunt Leia for a while.”

A gut-kick bubble of anger nearly hit the surface, but Ben forced it down, and instead asked, “Why?”

Rey put her bags down and sat down next to him on the couch. Whenever she was in his general vicinity, she was usually touching him--curled up on the couch with her feet against his thigh, a hand on his knee, wiping hair out of his face--but now she stayed a whole cushion away. She might as well have been on the other side of a canyon.

“I love you,” she began, and the tension in Ben’s muscles dissipated slightly, “I trust you. I nearly always take your side.”

“But?”

“Your treatment of your mother has gone too far. She has tried endlessly to make amends with you. She’s concerned for you. She’s lonely and hurting and you have no compassion for her. It just…” Rey looked down at her hands neatly folded in her lap, “It frightens me that one day I might do something to upset you that I don’t understand, and instead of letting me fix the situation, you’ll--” She stopped herself short, head bowed to avoid his gaze.

“I’ll what?” Ben asked, not wanting to know the answer.

“I’m afraid you’ll hurt me.” 

“I’d never--”

She looked at him again, eyes glassy. “But you might. And I’m just so afraid, all the time. After the accident, I never know what or who to trust, and--” she swallowed down the words, chin trembling.

Ben realized that she had never seen him in one of his furies; he was normally so calm around her that she’d never witnessed him go off the deep end, had only ever heard about it from him and everyone else involved. Even the situation with the orderlies had taken place at the other end of the hospital. All his other flare-ups had happened while she was away. 

He scooted closer to her, to hold her hand or soothe her or any of the things she always did for him when he was this upset, but she moved away. 

“It’s temporary,” she assured him, wiping her eyes and taking a deep breath, “a week, maybe. She’s so upset, and I don’t want her to be alone right now.”

Ben nodded. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“If the situation were reversed, you’d do the same for me.”

She smiled in a dark, tired way that he hadn’t seen since the aftermath of the accident. For how bright and positive she always was, he knew it was out of conscious choice over naïveté. Underneath the beautiful exterior were deep shadows of pain and remorse, like the toe shoes that hung on her bedroom doorknob. 

“That’s the difference between you and your mother, Ben.” Rey stood and put the bag on her shoulder again. “The situation would never be reversed.”

***

Another damn limousine came to pick up Ben. At first he assumed it was some kind of rich-person status quo, but now he was beginning to wonder if Hux was trying to impress him.

The driver got out and opened the door, and Ben slid inside. He watched the college town landscape turn to suburbia and then the city, trying to keep his mind away from his nerves and his eyes away from his dark tinted reflection in the partition window. Light bruising covered his cheekbone and his bottom lip was busted, but otherwise he looked younger and healthier than he probably had in years. 

Hux hadn’t texted him, and Ben was too despondent from Rey’s departure to dwell on it. He’d spent the day balanced precariously in an awkward space between anticipation and grief. 

They stopped on a busy city block. The driver opened the door for Ben, and when Ben climbed out, he didn’t know if he was supposed to tip or not, not that he had cash on him to do so. So he just thanked the driver with a small wave and headed toward the building entrance.

The etched script on the front door read,  _ Pomme _ , and the only other clue that it was a restaurant were the people eating inside by candlelight. All Ben’s worries he would be overdressed vanished at the sight of expensive dresses and jewelry, suits and cufflinks. 

He entered, a nervous itch under his skin, immediately scanning the place for Hux. A hostess caught his attention and asked, “How many in your party?”

Ben took a stab in the dark. “I’m meeting someone. Hux?”

“Ah, right this way.”

She led him through the restaurant, into a small alcove where Hux sat in the corner attending to his phone. He didn’t look up as Ben approached, nor when the hostess pulled a chair out for Ben to sit, nor when Ben sat down. 

A glass of water had already been poured for him, wine in front of Hux. Ben stared at him openly, positions reversed for the first time. The candlelight made him look almost ethereal, golden eyelashes spanning over sharp cheekbones, freckles dotting every inch of porcelain skin. Not a hair stood out of place, parted and styled neatly. He wore a light grey suit with a slim navy tie, tailored to accentuate his thin form. 

Ben had spent his entire life avoiding human touch, but all he wanted right now was to reach out and mess up Hux’s perfect hair, or boop his nose, or anything that would make Hux notice him. Instead, he picked up his menu and opened it. A long line of French names faced him, nervousness now exacerbated because he knew he would hate everything listed. He picked the first thing he thought he could pronounce, hoping Hux wouldn’t notice him shuffling food around his plate politely instead of eating, as he was wont to do at fancy restaurants.

The server approached, and Hux placed his phone face down on the table, still ignoring Ben. “Are we ready to order?”

“Yes,” Hux replied, holding out his menu with a smile. “I’ll have the duck à l’orange. My guest will have macaroni and cheese.” 

“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have macaroni and cheese.”

Hux’s smile didn’t falter. “You’ve worked here, what, two months? Three?”

Taken off-guard, the server replied, “Almost six.”

“Ah,” Hux said, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out a card. He handed it to the server. “Do me a favor. Ask Chef du Pont if she would be willing to make a batch of macaroni and cheese, and when she tells you to fuck off, hand her this.” 

The server took the card and, confused, said, “I’ll put that right in.” 

When he walked away, Ben asked, “What was that about?”

Hux acknowledged him for the first time since he’d arrived, and arched his eyebrow as if to provide a silent reminder that Ben was not to speak unless spoken to. Nevertheless, he replied, “Just having a bit of fun.”

Ben jolted when he heard a crash in the kitchen followed by some enraged shouting in French, and the server returned to their table, pale, addressing Hux, “My sincerest apologies, sir. Your food will be right up.”

“Your efforts are most appreciated,” Hux replied. The server hurried away, and Hux answered Ben’s questioning expression with, “I own the restaurant.”

“I thought you made bombs,” Ben said.

Hux looked at him like a child who aced his first spelling test. “I manage an industrial weapons development company, yes. But my hobby is investing. I met Chef du Pont about a decade ago after she’d just graduated culinary school and provided her the startup capital necessary to open a restaurant. And here we are.”

That all sounded so far above Ben’s head that he might as well have been a child who aced his first spelling test. “That’s...very interesting.”

“No, it isn’t. But it’s kind of you to oblige me.” Hux took a sip of his wine, scrutinizing Ben under a watchful gaze. It made Ben squirm in his seat, which in turn caused him a nagging throb of pain and reminded him of the events of the previous night. A blush rose to his face, and Hux took notice, hinting a smile as he likely put together exactly Ben’s thought process.

Hux leaned forward, placing his arms on the table. “How are you feeling?”

Ben shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about it.

Hux leaned back again. “Fair enough. You know, I’ve been doing some light reading recently, Yoder’s later work on Constantinianism, and I must say, he provides a compelling argument for the interconnection of church and state.”

“No way,” Ben replied automatically. “You haven’t read Leithart then. He completely dismantles Yoder’s theories, going so far as to say Constantine wasn’t a Christian at all…”

By the time the food came, Ben was ranting about Roman politics, Hux responding with insightful quips and encouraging questions. Ben ate nearly all of his macaroni and cheese as well as the entire basket of bread on the table, and by the time they’d both finished, the sun had set and Ben found himself inexplicably relaxed. Having fun, even.

A portly woman in an apron approached their table speaking French. Hux stood, smiling. “Fabienne,” he said, and hugged her. They chatted animatedly in rapid French that Ben couldn’t begin to understand. The hand gestures told him the conversation may have been about how wonderful the food was, followed by the bill, which Hux insisted on paying, and Chef du Pont having none of it. It appeared that Hux finally relented, and kissed her on the cheek before she departed.

“You speak French?” Ben ventured.

“A bit, yes,” Hux replied, the words like the tip of what Ben assumed to be a linguistic glacier. He finished off his glass of wine and stood again, buttoning the top button of his suit jacket. “Shall we?”

***

Ben had almost no predictions as to how this evening would go, but an upscale dinner followed by a pleasant walk to the harbor was not it. Their conversation never once slipped into silence, Hux effortlessly goading Ben into engaging conversation about all his interests. He couldn’t tell if Hux had taken time out of his busy life to research all the things Ben had passively mentioned or if they just had this much in common. Either way, he took it as a compliment.

They reached the harbor and Hux unbuttoned his jacket again before sitting on the ledge, letting his immaculate suit touch the filthy cement. He pulled a silver cigarette case from his breast pocket and slipped one out, perching it between his lips, then looked up at Ben and patted the space next to him. “Sit.”

So Ben followed suit, his shiny dress shoes hanging over the rushing water splashing below them. Hux lit his cigarette, body visibly relaxing as he exhaled the smoke through his nostrils.

For the first time, they fell silent, both staring at more city lights across the river, the bridge ahead and all the boats floating underneath it. The night was cool and clear, and for the life of him, Ben couldn’t figure out what was going on.

He glanced at Hux’s face, profile fine and white against the darkness of evening, hair moving slightly with the breeze, smoke coiling around him. Ben let his eyes fall to Hux’s jaw, sharp, and his throat, soft. He noted Hux’s hand, hovering near his face with the cigarette between his thin fingers, and the ring that Ben had inadvertently become intimately familiar with. 

Without the warped perspective of his own unhinged desires, without fear of Hux’s overbearing criticism, without being watched for once, Ben finally figured it out.

“You’re married,” he concluded, even though he hadn’t been prompted to speak.

Hux made no indication of surprise or confusion. He glanced at Ben with the same calm complacency he’d adopted the entire evening. “How do you suppose?”

In answer, Ben pointed to his busted lip. “You hit me with it.”

Hux took another drag of his cigarette, and as he exhaled, said, “I am.”

“You’re cheating on your wife with me.”

“To my credit, until recently, I hadn’t considered paying someone else’s expenses to be an act of infidelity.” He paused, and added quietly, “It’s gotten a bit more complicated than I anticipated.”

“I would ask, but you’re just going to cite personal reasons and then say something mean.”

Hux finally looked at him, mildly surprised, like his carpet had admitted it didn’t like being stepped on. He quickly trained his expression back to complacency. “Do you need to know?”

Ben considered it. On one hand, another man’s infidelity wasn’t his business. On the other hand, if he was  _ part _ of said infidelity, he should know. 

“Yes,” Ben concluded, wringing his hands in his lap.

“Elise and I,” Hux began, “are on a bit of a break.”

“How much of a break?”

“Lawyers are involved, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So you split with your wife and found, what, a replacement in the form of a struggling liberal arts student? Someone you could pay for?”

“Closer. Not quite.”

“Just tell me. You said it yourself, I can’t leave. So you might as well give it to me straight.”

Hux looked down at the water trailing beneath them, for once seeming his actual size and age instead of a towering monolith of money and power. “I remember 9/11, watching the world slowly crumble in its wake while my family and our business thrived in response to it. I’d just started college at the time.”

“What did you go to school for?”

Hux smiled wanly. “Sculpture. My father grew ill and I changed to business and economics, knowing I’d be forced to take over the operations of his company once he passed.”

It explained the gentle roughness of Hux’s hands. Ben imagined him chiseling rock and concrete, shaping clay, sketching shapes. Breaking things to build them stronger. It suited him.

“I never wanted this life for myself. I’d worked very hard to avoid it, in fact. I should have never dragged another person into my misery, either.” Hux took a long drag from his cigarette, flicking the ash into the sea. “Ten years of marriage, washed away by lapses in sound judgment.”

Ben understood. Too well, probably. “You hurt her.”

“Not...physically. But I was constantly asking her to bend to my will, refusing her personhood. I took pride in caring for her, then resented her when she didn’t respond with gratitude. Over the years the resentment derailed into hatred, which was, I suppose thankfully, reciprocated in full.”

“So she broke up with you.”

“She broke up with me, yes.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

Hux stared at him a second, then made a sound which could have been a laugh. “I appreciate your open self-absorption.”

Ben had never considered himself self-absorbed, but he supposed a self-absorbed person wouldn’t notice that about themselves anyway. “Was that an insult?”

“That depends,” Hux replied, an indulgent smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Do you consider your egotism a weakness?”

“Not at all.”

“Then yes, it was an insult.” Hux sighed. “Another lapse in judgment, this one aided by a certain substance, led me to impressing my woes on Mr. Dameron.”

“Wait,” Ben said. “You buy weed from Poe?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“No. I mean, I don’t, but everyone else does. You just don’t seem the type, is all.”

“Or perhaps you’re not very observant.” Hux ignored Ben’s resulting indignation and continued, “In character with Mr. Dameron’s disreputable albeit ceaseless networking, he mentioned he had a friend whose company I might enjoy. For a price. I told him I wasn’t in the business of purchasing affection, at which he relented and I went about my life. After another...tiff with Elise, I informed Mr. Dameron he could pass along my name as he saw fit.”

“How many people texted you?”

“One. I don’t believe he had any intention of recommending anyone but you. He has a rather remarkable talent for gauging chemistry.”

“Why didn’t you want to meet me?”

“Because my use for you did not and should never have bled into reality. I never wanted the burden of having to maintain restraint around you.”

“Past tense,” Ben muttered. He finally put all the pieces together. “You invited me here to break up with me.”

Cigarette now burnt to the filter, Hux threw it in the water and exhaled the final cloud of smoke. “Your expenses will be covered for the remainder of your undergraduate education. I’ve set it up as a company expense, so going forward you’ll be considered an intern. I’ve emailed you a job description with skills you already possess, and if you need any references, you may forward my contact information as necessary. I assure you, I’ll provide a glowing recommendation.”

Ben gripped the cement. After a lifetime of extreme gut reactions, he was surprised to find numbness instead. Emptiness. All used up. He’d finally expended his life’s allotment of feelings and now he was left alone, a dried-out carcass of apathy. He repeated, more to himself than Hux, “You’re breaking up with me.”

Hux caught Ben’s eye and held it, gaze stern and voice to match it. “We were never together.”

He moved to stand, but Ben caught his arm, gripping muscle underneath too many layers of expensive fabric. “You care about me.”

A flicker of doubt fell over Hux’s face, harshness momentarily washing away to whatever kind of person he was underneath. Ben would never get to know that person now. 

Hux yanked his arm away and whispered, as if he feared someone would overhear, “If you believe that, trust me when I say my absence is the kindest gift I could ever give you.” He stood and buttoned his jacket, smoothing it down along with his hair. “Your car will be arriving shortly.”

Ben stared up at him, speechless, while Hux stared back, a long moment of silence stretching between them filled with everything that could have been. 

“Goodbye, Ben,” Hux said, and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out the fanart](http://goldengarter.tumblr.com/post/142664238543/i-figured-today-was-as-good-a-day-as-any-to) for this chapter by goldengarter!


	10. Chapter 10

In a matter of days, Ben had lost his mentor, his best friend, and the closest thing he’d ever had to a boyfriend. 

The next week went by in a fog. He buried himself in his studies between long bouts of nothingness. He finished  _ Glee _ and started  _ Supernatural _ . He watched the petals of his roses turn brown and flutter into scattered piles on his coffee table. He glanced mournfully at his healing lip every time he passed his reflection in the mirror, the bruise on his cheek fading a little more every day.

His mother emailed him one morning. He avoided opening it until evening, when his curiosity got the best of him and he felt the smallest masochistic urge to embrace whatever lashing it contained. To his surprise, it only said,  _ I hope u r OK. _

It was the closest thing he’d get to an apology, so he replied,  _ I’m fine,  _ which was the closest he would get to giving one in return.

He did, however, apologize to Rey.  _ I’m sorry _ , he texted one night. 

_ I miss you _ , he added the next morning. 

A day later, _Come_ _ home. _

She didn’t come home. Nor did she reply.

Hux was a different matter. Ben crafted lengthy letters to him in his head, from angry rants about abandoning Ben to accusations of being a coward. He lay awake at night wondering about Hux’s relationship with his wife, seething with jealousy at the thought of him touching someone else, loving someone else. Eventually Ben wore himself out and all that was left was a dull ache, a pathetic reminder that he was second place.

Ben trudged home from school one rainy afternoon alone. He hadn’t seen Finn or Poe since the incident except in passing, Finn glaring at him while riding past on his skateboard. 

Ben stopped in the entryway to get the mail. Behind him, a door opened, and he heard a muttered, “Oh shit,” before it closed again. He spun around and hesitated, listening, then knocked on the door.

“Poe?” he asked. “Can we talk?”

The fluffball Pomeranian with the stupid name--BeeBee--started yapping. Otherwise, no answer.

“I literally just heard you, Poe. Don’t be an asshole. I want to apologize.”

Poe opened the door a couple inches, enough that the chain caught on it. He wasn’t smiling, and it unnerved Ben more than he expected; Poe was always smiling. “You’re not gonna hit me again, right?”

Ben pointed to his own face, which for the most part had healed, but the yellowed shadow of his cheek bruise remained. “You’re the one who hit me.”

“Oh,” Poe admitted. “Right.” He closed the door again and unlatched the chain, then opened it all the way. He wore a pair of linen pants and a black crop top that read,  _ (r)evolution _ , holding BeeBee in one arm, who had finally shut the hell up. 

Ben always hated this part, as necessary as it was. He used to have a stock apology he reserved for teachers and other various personnel who had to deal with his crap, but he felt he’d grown out of it. Instead, he said in all honesty, “I’m really sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve freaked out like that.”

Poe shrugged, smile slowly returning. “Water under the bridge, pal. Good thing Hux showed up, huh?”

Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that…”

Poe’s bloodshot eyes narrowed minutely. When he figured it out, he said, “Oh man, that’s tough, bro. I thought you two would really get along.”

“I thought we did.”

“And he, what, broke it off? Why?”

A lump welled up in Ben’s throat. Of all the people he thought he’d talk to about this, Poe Dameron wasn’t on the list. And Ben certainly never expected both easy forgiveness and sympathy from him. “I don’t know. He hasn’t finalized his divorce with his wife or something.”

“His  _ wife?  _ Shit, I had no idea. You know I wouldn’t have set you up to be a mistress, bro. I have undying respect for the institution of marriage.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m pretty sure they’re separated, so I don’t really know what his deal is.”

“Have you tried talking to him?”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

A wicked smile crept up Poe’s face. “Have you tried getting his attention?”

Skeptical, Ben asked, “How so?”

Poe opened the door and ushered him inside, which Ben generally avoided because the Damerons' apartment reeked of nag champa and the only place to sit was a bean bag chair and various floor cushions. He pushed Ben onto a bean bag and sat next to him on the floor, letting BeeBee curl up in his lap.

He leveled a stare at Ben and said, “Hear me out, I got an idea.”

***

It was stupid. It was unethical. It was Ben’s only shot at getting Hux to talk to him.

And it required him to  _ go _ places. 

He took the bus to a mid-scale restaurant that he was fairly certain Hux didn’t own, where he ordered two meals’ worth of food to go, tipped as much as he would have if he had sat down, then left. He found a homeless man on the street and gave him the food before stepping into a bar a block away.

The place was a hole-in-the-wall college dive. Students played pool and watched football on television. Servers went around serving burgers and beer. This was the boring part, so he found an innocuous space in the corner to bide his time.

The bartender came by and Ben opened a tab on his expense card, but only ordered a Shirley Temple. He read a book he brought with him, periodically glancing around to make sure the group of six girls he had his eye on were still sitting at a booth. They looked relatively innocuous, all drinking expensive mixed drinks and laughing. 

After an hour and a half, he hailed the bartender and told her, “Can you buy that table over there a round on me?”

“All of them?” she asked, glancing at the girls.

“Yeah. But let me pay first.”

The bartender gave him a quizzical look but did as she was asked. Ben tipped her well on the receipt, then left.

Instead of taking a bus, Ben ordered an Uber to drop him off at a drugstore, where he bought five bags of Sour Patch Kids and a Diet Coke, then proceeded to walk the rest of the way home. 

If this didn’t work, Ben didn’t know what else to do.

He was nearly back at his apartment when his phone rang. Ben grinned as the word  _ Daddy _ lit up the screen. “Hello?”

“What the  _ hell _ are you doing?”

Ben couldn’t act worth shit, but it didn’t matter. “What do you mean?”

“Dinner, drinks, a drug store purchase immediately after for  _ eleven dollars _ ? Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Ben mustered as much betrayal as he could. “Have you been spying on my credit card purchases?”

“Of course I have, it’s  _ my _ money! And you’re using it to...to…” 

“To what?” Ben asked, unable to mask his amusement.

As realization dawned, Hux grew quiet. “It’s a trick, isn’t it?”

Ben bit his lip to keep from laughing. His life had spiraled so quickly to hell that he really had nothing to lose anyway; it was liberating, in a sense, giving up. He stopped at the front steps of his apartment building and leaned on the railing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You engineered these purchases to  _ look _ like a date just so I would call you.”

Poe glanced out of the sliding glass door of his apartment and gave Ben a questioning look. Ben responded with a thumbs up.

Hux continued, “I am very disappointed in you, Ben. I expected so much more--”

Poe slid open the door and shouted, in a deeper voice than his own, “C’mon Ben, I got the wine open already!”

“Gotta go,” Ben told Hux. 

“What? Who was that--”

And Ben hung up.

“Did he buy it?” Poe asked.

“I think so,” Ben replied, hiding a smile. 

Poe glanced at the drugstore bag in Ben’s hand. “Is that candy?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna share? Finn’s working late. I was just about to order Chinese and put on  _ Blade Runner _ .”

“Which cut?”

Poe scoffed, offended. “Is that even a question? The ‘82 theatrical release.”

Suddenly, all the reasons Ben thought he disliked Poe faded, like tears in rain.

“Yeah, okay.”

***

Ben’s phone vibrated under his pillow. It was too bright to look at, so he answered it blindly, half-asleep. “Hmm?”

“Why have you done this to me?” Hux asked.

Ben glanced at the clock by his bed. One a.m. glared back at him. “Done what?”

“You know perfectly well what.”

Ben smiled into his pillow, victorious and now fully awake. “Someone once told me it’s good to seek gaps in others’ armor. For mending’s sake.”

“Are you calling yourself a weakness of mine?”

“You said it, not me.”

Hux hesitated. Ben could feel his irritation through the crackle of the phone line. “So?”

“So what?”

“Did you or did you not fuck some undergraduate bimbo this evening? A music theory major with a B-minus GPA, perhaps? A  _ football player? _ ”

“Why do you care?”

Pitched lower, nearly a growl, Hux replied, “Because you are  _ mine _ , goddammit.”

“You broke up with me.”

“I let you loose. There’s a difference.”

Ben muttered, “Pretentious analogy in three, two, one--”

“A dog without a leash is still restricted by the bounds of its fence.”

“So now I’m a dog.”

“You said it, not me.”

Ben rubbed his eyes. This was exactly what he wanted, but not at one in the morning. “There was no date, okay?”

The relieved sigh at the other end of the line made Ben’s stomach flip. A long silence followed, wherein Ben nearly fell back asleep, until he was woken again by Hux’s voice. “Tell me what you need, Ben.”

“I need sleep,” Ben muttered.

“What else?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just tell me something, anything you need. Do you play video games? I’ll buy you a new console. I’ll expedite the shipping. You’ll have it by tomorrow.”

“I haven’t even gotten through all the books you bought me.”

“Then what else? Ice cream? Fencing lessons? Nuclear fallout?”

“Would you really blow up a country for me?”

“I’d blow up the whole planet for you.”

Ben could hear Hux’s breathing, not labored, but quick, the kind of breathing borne from panic, from almost losing a prized possession and finding it again.

And Ben was not above exploiting him for it, exactly as Poe had instructed him.  _ The Drop _ , Poe had called it. “You know what I need.”

“Ben,” Hux said, nearly pleading. “You know I can’t.”

Ben slowly sat up in bed and ran a hand through his hair. He needed to switch tactics. He couldn’t just tell Hux to buy him something, because then Hux would get whatever fix he got from giving Ben stuff, feel accomplished, and go back to ignoring him, as was the pattern. Ben temporarily had the high ground, and he needed to use it to keep Hux from running away. 

“Daddy...” Ben began, slipping in as much plea as he could.

Hux let out a small resigned groan. “Please. Don’t do this.”

“I’ve had such a terrible week, Daddy. I just want to see you. Send a car for me, let me come over.” 

When Hux didn’t reply, Ben tried again, “Daddy--”

“ _ Ben _ ,” Hux emphasized, a warning this time.

“Please invite me over.”

Hux hissed, “Why should I? You’ve been behaving very badly, and--”

“Then punish me.”

“ _ No _ .”

“I need it, Daddy.”

"Fuck,"  Hux said. A tense moment paused between them while Hux deliberated. “Be ready and waiting outside in twenty minutes.” He hung up.

***

A regular car picked Ben up, not a limo, but there was still a glass partition between the backseat and the front, which was rolled up so Ben didn’t have to worry about benign niceties while he acted like he wasn’t on his way to coerce his sugar daddy into fucking him.

He wore regular clothes instead of a suit in hopes that he wouldn’t be wearing them for long anyway. He showered and shaved and did the whole beautifying routine that Hux had inadvertently taught him, like some high-priced courtesan and not an awkward college kid.

Ben didn’t have a lot of faith in himself on a day-to-day level, but he’d always had one thing going for him: his unwavering determination to get what he wanted. He wanted Hux, and he was tired of pretending he didn’t. Married or not, abusive or not, it was unfair to purchase a toy only to neglect it.

Ben figured Hux lived in some high-rise in the city, but was surprised when the car rolled up to a modest colonial in the suburbs. The driver opened the door for him, and Ben zipped up his hoodie as he made his way up the walkway to Hux’s house. Tall pillars lined the wrap-around porch, furnished with cozy adirondack chairs and a swing, double doors awaiting him.

The porch light was on, but inside was mostly dark. Briefly Ben worried that Hux had fallen asleep. He tried the knob instead of ringing the bell, and found it unlocked, so he entered.

In Ben’s wildest dreams, he could not imagine Hux living in a place like this. It was so...normal. Upscale, but not the futuristic haven he’d conjured in his mind. He couldn’t imagine Hux waking up every morning, grabbing a breakfast bar from the simple marble-countered kitchen, tossing his briefcase over his shoulder and booking it to the garage. It was too real, too individualized. Ben had assumed Hux was surrounded by a team of people every minute of every day, but now that he was in his home, with the dimmed track lighting and simple leather couches and big screen TV, he understood why Hux may have wanted companionship in the first place. His house was big and lonely and  _ boring _ .

Footsteps down the stairwell caught Ben’s attention. He spun around to find Hux hesitating on the steps, in a dress shirt with the top button undone, his sleeves rolled up, and no tie. His hair was messier than normal, like he’d run his fingers through it over and over. He stood, stunned, the same flash of an expression as when he’d first seen Ben at the banquet what felt like years ago.

“Ben,” he said.

“It’s two in the morning. Do you own anything other than business clothes?” Ben asked, masking his relief that Hux still wanted him there.

Hux looked down at himself. “I’ve been...preoccupied this evening. Morning.”

“Oh?” Ben asked. It had been easier hiding his amusement over the phone.

Sternness clouded Hux’s features, all momentary sense of gratitude that Ben had showed up dashed away. “Upstairs,” he said, clipped, and turned around to go back up the steps.

Ben followed. “Where’s the missus?”

Without looking back, Hux replied, “Fucking the Cincinnati Reds, I imagine.”

***

“Strip,” Hux said when they made it to what Ben assumed was Hux’s bedroom. The king-sized bed was pristinely made with an ornate golden bedspread. Unlike most bedrooms, Hux’s was bereft of personal effects. No framed pictures or stacks of books or discarded socks. It looked like a hotel room.

“Right now?” Ben asked as Hux rifled through a drawer beside his bed.

“No, after a bowl and a rousing Ginsberg reading. Of course right now.”

“Oh.” Ben shed his clothes, more embarrassed than the last time Hux had seen him naked. He’d been out of his mind then, but now he had no excuse. 

Hux turned around with items in his hands and stared at the pile of clothes on the floor. He gave Ben a deadpan stare. “Really.”

“Sorry,” Ben muttered. He picked up his clothes and folded them neatly, then placed them on a hamper. 

Hux tossed the pillows off the bed and turned down the covers. “Come here.”

Ben crawled onto the bed and made his way toward Hux. 

“Stop,” Hux said, Ben in the center of the mattress, still a whole foot away.

Ben made a disconcerted noise. “But I want to touch you.”

Hux laughed. “I know you do. That’s exactly why you’re not going to.” He gestured to the wooden headboard, steadied by thick slats. “Sit up against the headboard. Back straight.”

Ben did, disgruntled, fisting his hands in the sheets to keep from reaching out and touching Hux. 

Hux picked up what Ben could now see was black nylon rope. He maneuvered Ben’s elbow to his knee and looped it around, tying them together. 

“What are you doing?” Ben asked.

“I liked you better when you were intimidated by me. Hold still.”

When he was done tying, he slipped two fingers in the binding and twisted them, then moved to Ben’s other side. He proceeded to tie Ben’s other knee to his other elbow like he had the first. 

“What--”

“No speaking unless you’re telling me to stop or begging me for release. Understood?”

Ben opened his mouth to reply, but Hux glared at him, so he shut it again and nodded. He took Ben’s wrists and brought them together, then tied them with a third length of rope that was longer than the rest. 

Hux brought Ben’s wrists behind his head and secured them to the headboard, and Ben finally understood. He was completely sprawled open, knees to elbows, hands tied above him. When he shifted, he found he couldn’t move at all. The position was uncomfortable, humiliating, and more than anything, arousing. His cock lay half-hard against his stomach, and he felt his chest and face flush as he squirmed.

“That’s better,” Hux said, settling in front of Ben, cross-legged. He looked Ben up and down, gaze openly hungry, predatory. Ben could feel his body heat, but otherwise they weren’t touching, Hux fully clothed and Ben naked and splayed.

“Nod or shake your head only,” Hux began. “Has anyone ever touched you…” He placed the pad of his finger between Ben’s legs, a ghost of a touch over his asshole. Ben jumped and gasped. “Here?”

Ben shook his head, unconsciously shifting toward Hux’s touch again.

“Have you ever fingered yourself?” 

Ben shook his head again.

“So you’ve never had anything up your ass before, am I understanding correctly?”

Ben nodded. He couldn’t tell if he was more embarrassed about his inexperience, or that he was having this conversation at all, as one-sided as it was.

Hux smiled again in a way that made Ben’s heart thrum. “Very good,” he said, and brought two fingers to Ben’s lips. “Open.”

Ben did, and Hux pushed them inside. “Wet,” he added, and Ben licked them while Hux pushed in and out, fucking his mouth with his hand. Ben moaned around his fingers, eyes fluttering closed while he felt himself grow all the way hard, his dick leaking onto his chest.

“So responsive,” Hux muttered. “I barely have to do anything at all and you’re already dying for it. Pathetic.”

Ben groaned at how easy it was for Hux to get under his skin like this, to give him everything he wanted while giving him nothing at the same time. It killed him how little it took for him to get turned on, just Hux’s attention and a single touch.

“You thought this would be fun,” Hux continued. He pulled his fingers out and Ben felt empty, following them blindly as far as his restraints would allow. “You thought you could one-up me without recourse.”

Ben shook his head and bit his lip. Hux trailed wet fingers down the inside of Ben’s thigh, which trembled under his touch. He stopped at Ben’s entrance and circled around it with the pad of one finger. Ben had never felt anything so intense; his body jolted and the bed creaked.

“Ah ah,” Hux chastised, “I am aware you possess considerable strength, but do not break my bed.”

Ben nodded and tried to train his muscles to stillness. He inhaled a sharp breath as Hux coaxed him open, teasing the tip of his finger inside him. 

“So tight. This could take hours if you don’t relax.”

Ben closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing his body to give into Hux’s touch.

“Good boy,” Hux cooed.

His finger slipped in deeper. With his other hand he picked up a bottle of lube from the bed and coated his hand with it. It was cold when it hit Ben’s skin and sent a shiver through his body.

Hux pulled out a fraction of an inch and pushed in more. Ben didn’t think it would be so easy to be taken apart by a single finger.

But that was the power of Hux: he was proving that no matter how much Ben tried to get the upper hand, Hux could still ruin him at will.

Hux continued, in and out with one finger, loosening Ben slowly until he pressed in a second. It stretched and stung, so Hux added more lube. Ben lost track of time after that, his entire perception zeroed in on a single point of contact, his cock hard and heavy and soaking his chest and stomach. Several times, he bit his lip to keep from begging for Hux to stroke him, to ease the throbbing ache of needing friction. 

He began shifting his hips onto Hux’s hand, needing Hux deeper, faster. Hux stopped moving his wrist and let Ben fuck himself shamelessly, moaning, sweating, losing control. The ropes dug into his skin and chafed him raw, a sweet burn that he felt compelled to exacerbate.  The headboard pounded against the wall and dug painfully into Ben’s back, his wrists twisting in his bindings.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a very long time,” Hux said, and it was all the warning Ben got before Hux crooked his fingers forward.

Ben cried out, eyes squeezed shut, body writhing toward Hux to do it again. 

“More,” Ben begged, forgetting the one rule he was given. He immediately reddened with shame and regret. 

Hux made a disappointed  _ tsk _ noise and pulled his fingers out completely. Ben uttered an involuntary whimper and said, “No no, please, more, please…”

“You will learn obedience,” Hux said, deadpan, watching him with his head tilted. “Apologize.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ben blurted. “I won’t talk again I promise.”

“Unless?”

“Unless I’m begging to come or asking you to stop.”

Hux shoved both his fingers back inside Ben immediately and pressed them forward again. Ben shouted in pleasure, a long continuous moan as Hux fucked him hard and fast, massaging his prostate with every sweep of his fingers.

“Have you ever come untouched, Ben?” 

Ben shook his head. 

“You’re about to.”

Sure enough, a different kind of pressure welled within him, familiar but somehow new. He’d never felt the stirrings of an orgasm that originated anywhere but his dick before, his whole body heating, tensing. His teeth were vibrating with the intensity of it.

Hux’s fingers made a filthy wet sound as he fucked Ben steadily, and he never let his eyes stray from Ben’s face. His careful scrutiny tore Ben apart, vulnerable and losing all control, moment by moment ebbing closer to climax.

“Please,” Ben exhaled sharply. “I’m gonna--”

“Apologize for tricking me,” Hux commanded.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry--”

“You know what I want to hear. Don’t be coy, Ben.”

Ben was so keyed up that he didn’t think he could form words anymore. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll never do it again, I just wanted to talk to you again I missed you.”

Hux’s movements slowed slightly, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly. “You missed me?”

Ben nodded. “Yes, Daddy, please,  _ please _ \--”

“Why? You had my money. That was all you signed up for. Why did you miss me?”

Ben didn’t know what he was saying anymore. He could no longer tell the difference between pain and pleasure, torture and care. All of his mental and physical energy was focused on not coming without permission, on not disappointing Hux. 

So Ben didn’t know the words were even true until they were pulled out from somewhere deep in his unconscious. “Because I’m in love with you, Daddy, please--”

“Come,” Hux said, hurried, like all the wind had been knocked out of him. “Come for me.” He gripped Ben’s thigh with his other hand, fingers digging in, and the touch alone sent Ben over the edge.

He came with his breath stopped in his throat, cock pulsing with each wave of release, hitting his chin and neck and chest before trailing back down. He felt himself clench around Hux’s fingers, felt Hux move with the waves of pleasure wracking his body. His skin felt raw where it slid, sweaty, against his restraints. 

When his orgasm subsided, Hux exhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut as he gently pulled his fingers out. He pressed his cheek against Ben’s thigh, rubbing his scruff against smooth, warm flesh. His lips caught and he pressed a kiss to Ben’s leg, trailing his lips downward.

Ben watched, hazy and curious, mind completely silent, as Hux bit down on the skin of his inner thigh. He let out a soft moan as he did it, sucking flesh between his teeth and rolling it around, coaxing blood to the surface. 

Ben let out a small hiss at the acute pain of it, at the harsh oversensitivity of his body. It hurt, it hurt, he wanted more of it. He wanted Hux to mark him all over, pull out his cock and jerk himself on Ben’s face.

But Hux let go, placing another gentle kiss to the dark purple hickey he’d left. He looked at it fondly as he thumbed over it. Each swipe made Ben twitch.

“What was that for?” Ben asked, still catching his breath.

Hux didn’t look away from it, mesmerized. “An artist always signs his work.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shouldn't have to say this, but just in case:
> 
> What happens in this chapter (this entire fic tbh) is not reflective of any safe or sane BDSM practices. Please do not attempt in real life.

Rey was a vegetarian, so the number of times Ben woke up to the smell of frying meat in the past few years was zero. So when he awoke to the smell of bacon in an enormous, comfortable bed, he was confused. 

Rolling over and feeling a brand new kind of soreness brought him back to reality. He sat up in Hux’s bed and stretched, still naked and very much alone. Last night had been a blur, but it slowly came back to him as he glanced at the reddened ligature indents on his wrists and elbows and knees: Hux untying him and cleaning him up, lying him on his side. Ben didn’t ask him to, but Hux stayed anyway, sitting cross-legged beside him and watching him fall asleep. 

Ben’s eyes trailed to the dark purple mark on his inner thigh. He touched it with reverence, sore and sensitive. A ghost of a smile crossed his face before--

Oh god. He’d told Hux he loved him. He’d told Hux he was  _ in love _ with him.

He eagerly felt around the bed for his phone, lifted the pillows, and finally spotted it plugged into the charger beside the bed. Hux had silenced it, apparently, because Ben had a text from Rey that hadn’t woken him.  _ We need to talk _ , followed by,  _ In person. I’ll meet you at home. _

Nothing from Hux though, but the smell of food gave Ben hope that maybe he was still home even though it was a Friday. Maybe Ben could somehow backtrack and apologize, explain he didn’t mean any of it. Did he mean any of it? He didn’t know what being in love felt like; he shouldn’t have said that. It might have been a lie. Was it a lie? Maybe Hux forgot already.

Ben’s clothes weren’t where they left them on the hamper, but a neat pile of clean clothes waited for him in the bathroom, along with an unopened toothbrush on top. Either Hux happened to have clothes that fit Ben on hand, or he went out early in the morning to buy new clothes and a toothbrush. The briefs were even the brand he liked, the t-shirt was his favorite color (red, but heathered and soft), and the jeans fit him perfectly. 

He wandered downstairs to find the kitchen empty. 

“Hello?” Ben called out. No answer.

The kitchen table had a single place setting, a cloche between silverware. A glass of orange juice sat above it beside a large cup of steaming coffee. Ben sat down tentatively and removed the dome from the plate. Underneath included eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast. The food was still warm, which meant Hux hadn’t been gone long.

Ben couldn’t have ruined the situation too badly, if Hux was still willing to cook him breakfast. Then again, he also took Ben out for a nice dinner before breaking up with him, so Hux doing nice things wasn’t necessarily a sign that everything was okay. A lack of any note worried Ben most. He checked under his placemat, under the coffee cup, the floor in case it fell off the table. Hux always left a note, but the absence of his words left Ben disconcerted.

A tiny jingling noise made him glance around the room. A chubby tabby cat ran toward him, weaving its way around his legs and purring. 

“Who the hell are you?” Ben asked it, taking a bite of toast. 

The cat made a  _ mrrr _ sound and bopped its head onto Ben’s shin. He reached down and scratched behind its ears. 

“You’re a lot more lovable than your owner.” He considered his remark. “Maybe he has a type.”

Ben’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out to find another text from Rey:  _ I’m here. Where are you? You don’t have class today?? _

_ I’ll be home soon _ , Ben replied. 

***

A driver had been waiting outside for Ben, so he didn’t have to take the bus home. Ben made a map in his head of all the turns to get back to his apartment just in case. He itched with anticipation and regret, worried why Rey had sounded so formal and what would happen with Hux. 

The best case scenario, he figured, would be to walk into his apartment, tell Rey all about his crazy evening, let her hug him and kiss his face and tell him how much she loved him. He would apologize again for what happened and she’d wave it off and ask if he wanted to go see a movie. Then he could apologize for lying to Hux, apologize again for tricking him, and Hux would invite him over and fuck him senseless and everything could go back to normal. Or, he guessed, as normal as his life got.

The more he thought about the best case scenario, the less plausible it sounded.

The driver dropped him off at his apartment, where Poe and Finn were sitting on two folding chairs on their little front patio, BeeBee on a leash around Finn’s ankle. 

Poe glanced up from his conversation with Finn when Ben walked past. “Hey!”

Finn stopped Poe’s arm. “Babe, don’t get involved.”

“I’m gonna get involved,” Poe replied. “It’s my damn fault to begin with.”

Finn sighed and Poe hurried to Ben. “Look,” Poe began, and Ben had never seen that expression on his face before--fear, or concern maybe, but certainly not the goofy grin he usually wore. 

“What’s wrong?” Ben asked.

“I just want you to know that if you ever need anything, I mean  _ anything _ , you know I got your back, right?”

Ben eyed him skeptically. “Why? What’s happening?”

Instead of answering, Poe said, “Nothing. You got my number, yeah? I’ll hook you up with whoever, whatever you need.” He slapped Ben’s bicep and squeezed. “Anything.”

“Okay,” Ben said, confused, a sinking feeling in his gut. “Thanks.”

“Any time, pal,” Poe replied, and returned to an exasperated-looking Finn.

Ben took the steps up to his apartment slowly, suddenly terrified what he might find.

He fiddled with his keys, but Rey opened the door before before he got a chance to unlock it. Blood drained from her face as she stared at him, mouth opening to speak but no words coming out.

It hit Ben, then, how much he had missed her in the short time she’d been gone. How her presence in his life eased the passing of time, softened all the sharp edges of reality just enough to make it bearable. 

“What’s wrong?” he managed to get out, but the moment he spoke, Rey’s chin trembled and her face fell, breathing in a pained gasp before letting out a broken sob.

He stepped inside and closed the door, then wrapped his arms around her. She clutched his shirt and cried into it, soft in her gym clothes and hair in a messy bun instead of a neat one. As Ben rubbed circles on her back, he noticed--

Boxes. Open boxes partially filled. Closed boxes taped up and labeled in Rey’s big, loopy writing. Folded boxes from the market he used to work at propped up against the wall.

“I’m sorry,” Rey said, muffled in his chest. “Benny, I’m sorry.”

Ben stepped back and held her at arm’s length, sinking down slightly to meet her eyes. Her face was puffy and red, tears streaming down her face.

“What happened? What’s going on?” He didn’t intend to sound so panicked. Then again, it was the inevitable result of his entire world slowly crumbling around him.

Rey was barely coherent. Between gasped breaths, she said, “They want me to come home.”

“So? Tell them to fuck off.” 

“Benny…” She shook her head as another wave of crying started, and Ben ushered her to the couch and sat her down. She immediately leaned into him again, and he put his arm around her, held her close.

When she finally calmed, she said, voice smaller than Ben had ever heard it yet still filled with the same stubborn consternation it always had, “I’m going home.”

Though Ben’s own tears welled, his heart pounding, every muscle in his body tensed and ready to destroy everything in his path, he trained himself to complacency enough to ask, “Why?”

“It was my fault. I should have kept this between us. I should have never left.”

Ben filled in the gaps, wiping his eyes before any tears had a chance to fall. “They think I’m dangerous.”

“I told them you weren’t, not when it’s just us.”

“So tell them no. You’re eighteen. You can do what you want.”

She pulled away from him and glared. “It’s not that simple. If I don’t go, they’ll stop paying my tuition.”

Ben was in no state with Hux to ask him to pay Rey’s tuition, and even if he were, Rey would never allow it. Instead, he offered, “You can take out loans. That’s what Finn does. He can help you with it.”

Rey shook her head and took a deep breath. “It’s not just that.”

Ben wracked his brain. “What could possibly get you to move back? You hate it there.”

“Mum…” she began, and squeezed her eyes shut. “Mum wants to open a dance academy. She asked me to teach.”

“Oh,” Ben said. It took several seconds before the words sunk in, and when they did he felt like he’d been hit over the head with a sledgehammer. 

“It’d just be a few years, Benny,” Rey offered. She gripped his hand in hers, and he held onto it like he was drowning. 

“You know this is a game, right?” Ben spat back, unable to keep it down. “They’re doing this to punish me. They’re taking away the only person who matters to me just to watch me suffer.”

She steadied herself with an intake of breath and replied, “Do you ever think that maybe the world doesn’t revolve around you? That maybe they’re doing this for me, not to hurt you, but because they think it’s the best thing for me?”

Her words sliced into him. He’d rather tumble in the cabins of a thousand overturning trucks than face his current predicament. 

She continued clutching his hand. “Benny,” she began, softer, “I love you. I’m always going to love you.”

“It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like you’re abandoning me,” Ben whispered, because if he spoke any louder his voice would crack.

“I’ve put you first my whole life. You’re my best friend, and your happiness means everything to me.”

“But?”

“But I miss dancing. I miss my parents. I miss my friends.” She paused and leaned into him again. He let her, even though he wanted to throw the coffee table into the TV, because he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to have this again--her touch, her warmth. He’d taken it for granted for so long. “And you have Mr. Hux now. You’ll be all right.”

“He broke up with me.”

Rey let out a small gasp. “But he’s still…”

“Paying for everything, yeah. He just doesn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“Why?”

Ben shrugged. “Married. But separated. But still feels guilty. I don’t know.”

“I’m so sorry, Benny.” After a brief hesitation, she added, “Poe and Finn will take care of you though, if you need anything.”

He felt like a child as he replied, muttered, “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“I know, but...if you do, they’ll be here for you. And you know you always have--”

“If you say Mom...” Ben started.

“You do, though. We talked for a long time, and she’s so alone, and you have so much in common with one another, you have no idea. She needs someone to help maintain the house, someone to talk to. You need someone to…” She trailed off, snapping her mouth shut.

“To what?”

Rey spoke carefully. “Right you, when you stray.”

“What are you saying?”

“Just that, if you worked on it, perhaps if Leia could unlearn how to be a mother, and you could unlearn how to be a son, I think you two might get along better as friends.”

Ben had never considered it before, because he associated his mother with the heavy ache of ceaseless disappointment and damaging bouts of blinding rage. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Maybe not now, but...some day, I hope you consider it.”

A heavy silence fell between them. Ben wanted to put his fist through a wall, set the building on fire, go to his mother’s house and demolish everything she owned. But with Rey trembling in his arms, knowing he was the cause of it, he couldn’t do anything but resign himself to this new, lonely, horrible fate. 

His whole life, he just wanted everyone to leave him alone. Now, he couldn’t seem to remember why.

“What happens now?” he asked.

Rey sat up, pulling her sleeve over her hand and wiping at her nose. “I have to pack.”

“When do you leave?”

“Day after tomorrow. I finished the semester early.”

Ben stood, feeling unattached to his body as it seemed to move of its own volition.

“Where are you going?”

He made his way toward the door and noticed that he hadn’t even taken off his shoes. “I don’t know.”

When he opened it to leave, Rey said, “Wait. Do you want me to stay here or would you rather I stay with Leia?”

“I don’t care.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Rey’s chin trembled like she was about to start crying again, so he opened the door. He couldn’t be around her right now.

“I love you,” she said.

Ben nodded and left.

***

Ben didn’t realize where he was headed until he was halfway there, his feet guiding him down the same roads the driver had taken, even though it was on the other side of town. 

It took three hours. He didn’t care. He didn’t think. He didn’t feel. 

He made it up the steps to Hux’s house, then curled up on one of the adirondacks on the porch and waited.

*** 

It was nightfall when Hux returned. Ben heard the sound of a car in the driveway at the side of the house, the quick footsteps of Hux’s even gate, then his voice. “She can’t ask for half of my company, it’s publicly traded. That’s not how business  _ works _ \--”

Hux paused on the porch. Ben stared at Hux’s left hand, holding his briefcase, his damned ring glinting by the light of a street lamp. 

“You’re a lawyer. Figure it out,” Hux said into his phone, and hung up.

Ben could feel Hux’s gaze staring down at him. 

“You’re still here,” Hux said, tone bereft of inflection.

Since it wasn’t a question, Ben didn’t respond.

Hux sighed. “Why?”

Ben still didn’t reply, didn’t let his eyes stray from the ring.

“I’ve given you everything you wanted, Ben. I played into your game last night. You won. It’s over. Why are you here?”

Ben’s eyes snapped up. He unfurled himself from the chair and stood, stopping inches away from Hux. He didn’t like to use his size to intimidate, but despite their minimal height disparity, Ben was still broader and stronger. He wanted to destroy something; feel flesh and blood and bone against his knuckles. He wanted to hurt.

Hux wasn’t fazed. “We’ve been over this, Ben. I’m not afraid of you.”

Ben finally spoke: “If I hit you, would you hit me back?”

Hux ran a tired hand over his face and said in an exhale, “Only if you asked me to.”

“So I could beat you to a pulp, and you wouldn’t defend yourself?”

“I wouldn’t need to.”

“Why?”

“Because you won’t lay a hand on me.”

“You sound pretty sure about that.”

“I trust you, Ben,” Hux replied, and he skirted around Ben to get to the door. Ben was sure he saw a flicker of something raw and new in Hux’s expression as he slid the key in and unlocked it. “And you trust me. Now get inside.”

***

“Have you eaten?” Hux asked, rolling up his sleeves as he entered the kitchen. 

“Not since breakfast.”

The dishes Ben had left in the drying rack were put away, which confirmed that Hux had a cleaning person. It also explained why the door had been locked.

Ben slid onto a stool and watched Hux open the fridge and inspect its contents. He looked back at Ben, like this whole situation was normal, and for a second it felt normal too--Ben waiting for Hux to get home, then silently enjoying each other’s presence after a long day. It was simple, domestic. It was the life neither of them deserved.

“Is pasta all right?” Hux asked.

***

They ate in silence, the cat moving about and purring against their legs. 

“I imagine at some point you’ll tell me why you’re here,” Hux said, taking a sip of wine. “Unless you’d like to spend the entire evening watching me go about my business.”

“Bad day. Would that bother you?”

Hux glared at him. “Yes, it very much would.”

“Would you stop me?”

His jaw clenched, and when he spoke, the word came out like it burned him. “No.” He took another bite and added, “But I would like to know what could possibly constitute as a ‘bad day’ given the events of last night.”

Face flushing, Ben shuffled food around in his bowl. He didn’t want to say it aloud. That would make it too real. 

Still, he forced it, because Hux asked it of him. “Rey is moving out. Going home, I mean. In a couple days.” Like a thumb jammed into an open wound.

Hux’s eyes widened for a split second before training himself back to blankness. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Then he added, overly casual, “Is it a money issue, or…?”

“You can’t pay Rey’s tuition too.”

“I can,” Hux replied. “And I would. If that were the problem.”

“Thanks, but I’m the problem. I’ve always been the problem.”

“You know I don’t agree.”

“Do I?” Ben asked, harsher than he intended. “Because I have no recollection of that sentiment.”

Hux glanced at him, surprised. “I haven’t been particularly adept at concealing my affection for you. Surely you can see that.”

“No, I really can’t,” Ben replied, voice getting louder. “I know I misunderstand social cues sometimes, but to me, breaking up with someone doesn’t really equate to expressing affection.”

Hux’s resulting cold stare made Ben shrink a little in his seat. “I understand the severity of your emotional state, but you will not raise your voice at the dinner table. You are in my home and you will stow your impertinence.”

“Sorry,” Ben muttered. 

True to his word, after dinner, Ben watched Hux go about his evening business. They washed the dishes together, Ben rinsing them off and handing to Hux to dry and put away. Eventually Hux poured himself a scotch, and Ben followed Hux into the den like an unwanted puppy.

He didn’t know what he was doing with himself, why he was here when Hux obviously didn’t want him. But the other option was his apartment, and he couldn’t face all the boxes, couldn’t face Rey again, so Hux’s inability to kick him out was all he had going for him.

Hux sat on the leather sofa and picked up a book from the side table. Ben sat down next to him, but Hux scowled, affronted. “If you’re going to follow me around like a dog, I’m going to treat you like one,” he said, pointing to the floor.

Ben couldn’t explain it, but Hux’s cruel acerbity felt like wading into a pool on a hot summer day. He knew how to handle Hux’s commands. He knew how to please Hux. He’d spent weeks at Hux’s beck and call and received nothing but praise. Ben’s whole life was actively falling apart, but he was good at being a sugar baby, even if he no longer held that title.

Ben got on his knees in front of Hux. Hux let his eyes roll down Ben’s body like he had the first time they met, in his office, appraising Ben in a way that made his veins alight with need.

“No,” Hux said, reconsidering. “You’ve inconvenienced my evening. Strip.”

Without thought, Ben lifted the hem of his shirt over his head and folded it neatly before placing it on the couch. He followed by his socks and jeans and underwear until he fell back to his knees. A heavy weight lifted from his shoulders, knowing his place now, his role. 

Hux opened a drawer and pulled out a cigar. He clipped the tip with a silver cutter and brought it to his lips. The scratching swipe of a match followed, then the pipping of the flame to the butt of the cigar as he puffed.

Ben watched, entranced, while Hux slid it between his fingers and picked up his book again. Minutes stretched by, and Ben spaced out on occasion, drifting in the hazy smoke of the room. The scratchy carpet dug into his knees and the tops of his feet. He stared between Hux’s legs and imagined what his cock looked like, what it might feel like inside him, but it wasn’t an anxious feeling. His thoughts drifted toward him and then away again easily, like a dream.

When Hux spoke next, he sounded far away, through a dense fog. “Did you mean it?”

“What?” Ben asked. 

“Last night. What you told me.”

Last night seemed like an eternity ago, after the events of the day.

“That you were in love with me,” Hux added, nonchalant and not looking up from his book.

“Oh,” Ben replied, unthinking. He waited for any discrepancy to befall him between his declaration and this moment, but none came. “Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Ben furrowed his brow. “Why?”

Hux flicked some ash into the tray beside him. He closed his book and set it down. “Because you just can’t. Not after all I’ve told you. Not after all I’ve done.”

Through the smoke, through Ben’s blissfully relaxed state, he tilted his head and inspected Hux. His golden eyelashes and freckles seemed so boyish compared to his disposition. If Ben had only ever seen a picture of him, he might think Hux was just a young sculptor trying to get by. But having met him behind layers upon layers of mind games and tests and absurd happenstances, Ben knew the power rippling underneath, something so simple yet so often sought after and rarely achieved. Like Constantine, or any of the other great figures of history that Ben spent every waking moment poring over, admiring, needing to understand.

And he finally did. “You operate a company that profits from the pain and suffering of millions. Your wife left you because you treated her like you treat me, but your guilt prevents you from letting go. You don’t believe anyone could love you after that.”

“I retract my statement about you being unobservant,” Hux replied, exhaling another thick cloud of smoke. “I’m impressed.”

“I learned it from Rey.”

“Still,” Hux continued, “that doesn’t change anything. It’s not fair to you to put you in the same situation I put Elise. I nearly ruined her.”

“Boo hoo for her. That’s not your decision to make.”

“Well it’s certainly not yours.”

“Your wife won’t come back, and even if she did, you still wouldn’t want her. I’m all you’ve got.”

Hux’s impassive expression fell slightly, lips pursed as he looked away from Ben. 

“And you’re all I’ve got,” Ben continued, inching closer so he was settled between Hux’s legs. “You’re all I want.” 

A flush rose to Hux’s cheeks, but he still wouldn’t acknowledge him.

“You need me.” He didn’t dare touch Hux, but he made his desire plain. “As much as I need you.” 

Hux’s gaze snapped to him. He plucked Ben’s chin and lifted it toward him, eyes boring into him, bright and intense. “Prove it.”

“Of course. I’ll do anything.”

Hux’s attention turned to the smoldering tip of his cigar, then back to Ben, lingering until Ben understood.

Ben nodded. “Do it.”

“You won’t be paid for this,” Hux reminded him. “No tip this time. I won’t coerce you into it, into a relationship with me. You can’t come back to me later saying I never gave you an out when you explicitly asked for one earlier. You have to choose it for yourself.”

“I don’t want money. Or an out.”

Hux held Ben’s face and ran his thumb across his cheekbone, a warm caress that made Ben thrum with want all the way to his toes. He closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. 

“All right,” Hux relented. “Ben, tell me what you need.”

Ben held out his arm. “Burn me.”

Hux took a long drag from the cigar so the tip glowed red, then grasped Ben’s wrist and held the cigar between his thumb and forefinger.

Ben didn’t bother bracing himself. He watched with a blank curiosity as Hux lowered the cigar to his arm and snubbed it out on him.

He didn’t feel anything at first, though he did let out an involuntary gasp, and his muscles tensed. Fire shot through his body, and he writhed to get away, but Hux held him firmly, twisting the cigar so that the singed skin moved with it. A million years passed by in that single moment of unbridled agony. 

Ben wanted to flee his own mind, space out like he had before until it went away, until all the pain went away--

“Stay with me, Ben,” came Hux’s voice from a distance. “Speak to me. Tell me what you need.”

Ben’s breath came out in rapid huffs. “I need you, Daddy.”

Hux pressed the cigar harder onto his arm. “And?”

“And I’m yours. For as long as you want me.”

“What else?”

“I love you,” Ben blurted. “Daddy--”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes!” Ben shouted, and Hux lifted the cigar and let go of him. Ben collapsed. He lay on the floor curled up, heaving. His arm felt like it was aflame still, pain growing stronger as each second passed. He tried not to think about water, but every atom in his body ached for it, a strange kind of thirst he’d never experienced.

“Sit up,” Hux said. “On your knees. Face the bookshelf and put your forehead to the carpet.”

Ben managed to get back to his knees and turn, though he shook as he did it, adrenaline and shock warring within him. He doubled over and touched his forehead to the floor, his forearms bracketing his head and his dog tags clattering down.

He felt the distinct weight of Hux propping one foot onto his back, followed by the other, crossed at the ankle. 

“Stay,” Hux added, and though Ben couldn’t see anything but the back of his eyelids, though he couldn’t think of anything but fire, he heard another puff from the cigar and the spine of Hux’s book creaking open.

***

Ben knelt until the fire had burnt him to ashes. Every thought and feeling and instinct fled; all that remained was serenity.

“Up,” Hux said, gentle, removing his feet from Ben’s back. Ben didn’t know how long he’d waited, but when he struggled to move, one hand braced him at his lower back and the other at his shoulder. Hux’s touch burned worse than the cigar, made a new, raw need course through him. 

Hux helped Ben to standing, then balanced him as they walked up the stairs to Hux’s room and into the master bath. He guided Ben’s arm under the sink and said, “I’m rinsing the ash off, but otherwise, leave it alone.”

Ben understood--treating it would minimize the scarring, and Ben wanted to keep it. It was a gift. A promise.

Hux turned on the tap, and the flood of cool water over the burn made Ben’s knees buckle. He gripped the sink; Hux put an arm around his waist to steady him. Ben bit his lip and let out a gasp of a whimper, relief completely overwhelming him.

“Shh,” Hux soothed, running his hand up and down Ben’s side. “It’s all right.”

As soon as Hux turned off the tap, the burning returned, but he didn’t care as much anymore. The wound was bright red, a perfect circle a couple inches below his elbow. Hux stared at it too, thumbing softly underneath it without touching it.

“You are my finest work yet,” Hux whispered. 

“Thank you,” Ben replied, voice wavering.

“You’re welcome.”

Hux led Ben to the bed and turned down the covers. Ben crawled in.

“On your stomach,” Hux said, so Ben lay on his front, sighing against the smooth, cool sheets after hours of rough carpet. He was careful not to disturb his burn. 

He felt Hux straddle his thighs, and cool liquid hit his back. He jolted, and Hux shushed him again. “Relax for me.”

So he did, because Ben liked doing what Hux told him. Hux slid the oil over Ben’s back and slowly began applying pressure to his muscles. The oil smelled like lavender, and Ben melted under Hux’s touch.

“Where’d you learn this?” Ben asked, mind drifting as he sunk into the bed.

Hux pressed his thumbs between Ben’s shoulder blades, smoothing out the tension. “I’m a sculptor, Ben. I know how to shape things the way I want them.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to [brawlite](http://www.brawlite.tumblr.com) for the art inspo this chapter!
> 
> And huge thanks to all of you for reading. This fic started with me going, "I've read some really great kylux. To show my gratitude I think I'll write a little one-shot for all the amazing writers I've been reading." Then 10k turned to 20, and 30, and 40...
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the fic. I had a great time writing it. Sorry I don't reply to comments on ao3 but I'm a bit better about replying on tumblr, so feel free to [shoot me an ask](http://www.bettydays.tumblr.com/ask)!

The next morning was the exact same as the one before it--alone, clean set of clothes, breakfast downstairs, driver waiting for him. No note. Ben had no texts or emails, and he briefly wondered what would happen if he asked the driver to drop him off at the airport, then used Hux’s expense card to fly somewhere far away so he didn’t have to deal with this bullshit anymore.

But that kind of thought process belonged to his father, and Ben was nothing like his father. He didn’t run away from his problems.

Rey was home when he made it back to the apartment. Poe and Finn were helping her put boxes into a truck, presumably to store at Leia’s house. Ben walked past them without saying anything and locked himself in his room.

***

He was thankful he had finals to study for and focus on, so he spent most of the day in the middle of a half-circle of open textbooks. Not two months ago, he would have had Snoke at his disposal for every question, knowing he’d always reply within minutes. At the time, Ben considered himself special, or maybe Snoke excessively attentive. It made him sick that he’d ever been so blind.

In the evening, Ben heard the distinct sounds of Mario Kart from the living room. Instead of irritated this time, he just felt nostalgic. Poe and Finn weren’t going to come over to hang out with Ben after Rey left, not because they didn’t want to, but because they really had nothing in common. Finn would never like him, and Poe was just the kind of guy who was everyone’s friend, so it wasn’t like Ben was anything special to him. Barring an apartment fire, they had no reason to reach out to him.

A soft knock at his door broke his concentration. “Benny? We ordered pizza. I know you’re upset, but...do you want to come have some?”

Ben hesitated, his pencil held over the notebook balanced on his knee. She’d never knocked on his door before; she always just barged in. That, above all else, made it real: Rey was really leaving him.

“It would mean a lot to me,” she added. Another pause while Ben didn’t reply. “I love you. I’m sure you don’t think I do, but I’m going to be selfish and ask you to set your anger aside.”

Ben remembered the last time he dropped Rey at the airport, three years ago. It had always been difficult to say goodbye, but never as hard as this; he always knew she’d be back. In a week he didn’t want to wake up wishing he could have spent one last evening with her.

“This hurts me too, you know--” Rey began.

But Ben was already at the door. He opened it and looked down at her. “Pepperoni and sausage, extra cheese, little sauce, cut in squares?”

Rey’s smile cracked through the concern. “Of course.”

“Can I be Luigi?”

“Absolutely.”

***

Ben took the game too seriously and ended up kicking everyone’s ass. When the pizza went cold and the beer ran out, Poe and Finn departed with teary-eyed hugs and rounds of _keep in touch_ and _Skype us!_

Then it was Ben and Rey, alone. It felt like years since their last casual interaction. She plopped down on the couch and crumpled onto him.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said, muffled in his chest.

“Yeah,” Ben replied, feeling numb.

“Do you hate me?”

“No.”

“After the accident,” Rey began, snuggling closer to him, “the thought of leaving you was so unbearable to me. I remember thinking, ‘I won’t be safe without him. Something bad will happen, and Benny won’t be there to pick up the pieces, and I’ll just...’” She made an exploding noise and hand gesture. “And that's what I believed all the way up to a week ago.”

Her hair was down for once, wavy and soft, so Ben ran his fingers through it, listening. He realized then how little he just sat back and listened to anyone, let alone Rey. But now, at the cusp of losing her, he vowed to listen more often, to think before reacting.

She continued, “And your outburst made me realize: I can’t hold you accountable for my safety any longer. That’s not fair to either of us.”

“I thought you said you were afraid of me.” He didn’t say it with malice, just a benign remembrance.

“I thought I was, but I spoke with Han--”

“ _What?_ ”

“He’s living with your mother again.”

“Since when?”

“Since he got off parole. And I had a lot of time to think, so I thought, ‘Han was there that day too, he understands.’ He told me that maybe I’m not afraid of you at all, that perhaps what happened just shattered the rose glass of my perception. Maybe I’m afraid of,” she made a grandiose movement with her arms, “the world. Going out in it. Walking out from your shadow and facing the light of day, because what if it’s just another set of headlights, and you’re not there to break my fall?”

Ben bit back all his thoughts by resting his lips on the top of her head.

“If I hadn’t come along," Rey said, "you would have stayed living somewhat peacefully in your mother’s basement.”

“We broke each other out of prison. If we hadn’t done this, I would have been miserable.”

She twisted around and looked at him. “So what will you be when I’m gone?”

He shrugged. “Miserable and educated.”

She lay back down in his lap, and he continued stroking her hair. Catching sight of his arm, she grasped it and held it above her, tracing around the bright red rim of his burn. “What’s this?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Did Mr. Sugar do this to you?”

“Yeah, but--” Ben began, ready to defend it.

“That’s so _romantic._ ”

Ben paused. “You think so?”

“You don’t?”

“I figured it was kind of fucked up.” And fun and sexy and meaningful. But he didn’t say that.

“It’s that too. But I think it’s beautiful.” She continued staring at it a moment longer and added, “I think you’ll work things out with him. And I think you’ll be happy together. Maybe not a conventional happiness, or a conventional relationship, but one you’ll find fulfilling regardless.”

“Yeah,” Ben replied. “I think so too.”

***

 _Can you send a driver to take us to the airport?_ Ben texted Hux the next morning as Rey rushed around the apartment, having saved her actual flight packing until the last minute.

 _When?_ Hux replied.

“Where the _fuck_ is my hairbrush?” Rey shouted from the bathroom.

Ben flinched when the shower caddy collapsed, followed by a frustrated scream.

_Now. Ish._

***

Ben and Rey waited on the sidewalk in front of their apartment--just Ben’s apartment now, he corrected--expecting a limo to pull up.

Instead, a fairly new, totally nondescript beige Honda Accord slowed to a stop in front of them. Ben figured Hux had gotten them an Uber, until Hux himself stepped out of the car.

Ben blurted out, “You drive an _Accord_?”

“Good morning, Ms. Skywalker,” Hux said, ignoring Ben and helping Rey put her luggage in the trunk. Then to Ben, he added, “You don’t get wealthy by pampering yourself with frivolous expenses. It’s meant to take me from point A to B. I don’t need anything flashy.”

What was most surprising, though, was Hux’s attire: a faded University of Cincinnati t-shirt, a pair of jeans with frayed hems and a hole in one knee, and black Chuck Taylors that were so beaten up, pieces of them were held together with duct tape and safety pins.

“Who _are_ you?” Ben asked.

As Hux closed the trunk--Rey trying to hide a smile as she sneaked into the back seat--he looked at Ben like he was stupid. “It’s Sunday. Do you honestly expect me to wear a suit every day?”

“No, but--”

“You’re worse than my father,” Hux interrupted, getting back in the car.

Ben opened the door and slipped into the passenger seat. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

“You can’t read my mind.”

“You underestimate your own countenance.”

They continued like that, all the way to the airport, Rey laughing from the back seat and offering referee commentary as needed.

***

Ben had spent his whole life either shying away from Rey’s touch or reluctantly succumbing to it, but as she stood on her tiptoes leaning over the ticket kiosk, he kept his hand on her back. He felt hollow, his environment surreal. They’d been here, by Ben’s count, thirty times before, every time Rey arrived for the summer and then left again.

Hux hung back, leaning against a wall and keeping himself occupied on his phone, maintaining a careful distance to give them privacy.

The airline employee printed Rey’s boarding pass, and she thanked him as she shouldered her carry-on. Slow like a funeral march, they walked in silence to the TSA line.

When they reached the beginning of the line, Rey turned to Ben, looking up at him with a wan smile. “I guess this is it then.”

“Yeah,” Ben said, and cleared his throat because he could already feel a lump rising in it.

Quick footsteps approached them. “Oh thank god I didn’t miss you,” came Leia’s voice from several feet away. Ben didn’t bother looking over. He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and willed himself to calmness.

“Leia!” Rey exclaimed.

When Ben opened his eyes again, Leia and Rey were hugging. And beside Leia…

“What the hell is he doing here?” Ben accused her, pointing to Han fucking Solo, who had his hands in the pocket of his worn-out leather jacket, looking perpetually out of place.

Leia gave him a despairing stare, probably directed at both Ben and Han, and sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“Hey, son,” Han said.

“Don’t call me that,” Ben snapped.

Rey pleaded with him. “They just came to say goodbye. It’ll be over soon and you can go back to hating each other.”

Ben started shaking in his attempt to remain calm. A short, awkward pause befell the four of them, their broken little family for once lost for words.

“Well,” Rey began, “I ought to get to my gate. Plane’s about to depart.” She hugged Han before moving to hug Leia again.

Leia held tight for a long moment, before pulling away and cupping her face in her hands. “I think you’re going to have a wonderful time. And if you don’t, you always have a home here.”

“Thank you, Leia. For everything,” Rey said. Then she turned to Ben with a deep breath and a strained smile on her face.

And that was it. He had too much held in; the situation was too stressful. Ben’s composure crumbled, tears falling down his face, trying vainly to keep himself together.

“Oh no,” Rey said, “don’t cry, that’ll make me cry.”

“I just…” Ben began, wiping his face with the flat of his hand. His voice cracked. “I don’t want you to go.”

Rey wrapped her arms around him. He held onto her so tightly that he lifted her off the ground, burying his face in her neck and closing his eyes, forcing himself to remember this moment, to have something to keep when everything inevitably fell apart again.

“I’ll come back,” she whispered to him. “I promise.”

He finally set her back down, unwilling to let her go. It seemed impossible, given how often Rey told him she loved him, that he couldn’t remember the last time he said it back.

“I love you,” he told her. It wasn't as difficult as he always made it seem in his head.

She smiled at him through her tears, squeezing his hand as she walked backward toward the TSA line. “I know.”

***

Leia had the decency of waiting until Rey was all the way through security and headed toward her gate before saying, “You could be happy for her, you know.”

“Come on, Leia. Don’t start,” Han said.

Ben disagreed with his mother, because he would be happy for Rey once he had time to adjust, but he’d rather die than agree with his father on any topic, including this one.

“He made her feel guilty for following her dreams,” Leia told him. “It’s selfish, is what it is. She seemed happier in one week living with me than she had the whole two years they lived together. He was holding her back.”

“No I wasn’t,” Ben muttered. He couldn’t throw a fit here, not with all these people around, not with Hux mere feet away. “She was in college. It was better than wasting away in your basement.”

“She was majoring in psychology. It’s almost as useless as a history degree.”

“Mom…” Ben began.

Leia opened her mouth to continue ripping into Ben, Ben poised in turn to fight back, but Hux stepped between them. “That is quite enough, Senator.”

“God, not you again,” Leia replied. She let her gaze trail over him, sharp and cruel.

“Yes, me again. Get used to it.”

Ben had never heard anyone speak to his mother like that. It had obviously been a rarity for Leia too, because she redoubled her stare-down and said, “What the hell do you even want with my son?” She gestured to his ring. “You’re married.”

Hux stared at his hand in consternation, the stupid ring he still wore that constantly reminded Ben of his actual place in Hux’s life. No matter how just-okay their situation felt today, who knew what tomorrow would bring, with that awful ring and everything it stood for always in the way. Ben noticed that Hux had dashes and dots of dried clay caked on his arms and fingers. He looked so different than he usually did, like a real person for once and not some shadowy figure out of one of Ben’s fucked-up fantasies. Tangible, like Ben could reach out and touch him--

After a long hesitation, Hux glared at Leia and pulled off his ring. “Not anymore.”

Ben couldn’t breathe. His heart raced and his unconscious mind finally caught up with his conscious one to realize: he was really, horribly, stupidly fucking in love with Hux.

Leia stepped into Hux’s space and pointed at him, voice lowering to a threatening pitch. “I will get that treaty ratified if it’s the last thing I do. Your company will shut down and my son won’t have any use for you. You’ll be worthless.”

Ben watched Hux, attention rapt. Hux’s expression only wavered for a split second of doubt that Ben wouldn’t have caught if he hadn’t seen it before.

“Everything created needs the threat of destruction in order to thrive, Senator. Myself included,” Hux replied. “Going forward, however, if you ever attempt to come near your son again without first speaking to me, I will see to it he remains out of your reach entirely.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Leia said, not backing off.

“I would, in fact. If you want your son in your life, you will play by my rules.”

“You can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do. Believe me, I’ve spent his whole life--”

“Making him do things he doesn’t want to do,” Hux concluded. “Yes, I am perfectly aware. But I think you’d find your son is incredibly pleasant if you were to ever ask him what he actually wants instead of ordering him around. And trust me when I say I have learned that lesson in the most difficult way possible.” He turned his attention to Ben. “Ben, do you have any interest in seeing your mother or father again, except under strict or dire circumstances?”

Ben considered it. He remembered what Rey had said, that maybe he would be better friends with his parents than their son. But that wouldn’t happen any time soon, as promising as the sentiment was. “Not for a while at least.”

Hux turned back to Leia. “There you have it.” He pulled a business card out of his back pocket and handed it to her. “Feel free to call me any time.”

She yanked the card from his hand. “This isn’t over. Give me one year and--”

“Leia,” Han said, grabbing her arm. “Just let it go.”

Leia glanced at him like she had forgotten he was there, which Ben supposed was a pretty good summary of their relationship.

“Let me buy you a coffee?” Han asked her, gesturing his head toward the exit. “There’s a new little joint nearby. I did a favor for the guy once. Free coffee for life.”

Her expression softened into a small smile, the kind she only ever reserved for Han despite how rare they were, and Ben took his cue.

“We’re leaving now,” he said, inching toward the parking lot. “I would say it was good seeing you, but…”

Leia rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand at him, turning away with Han. She looped her arm in his as they left the airport. Ben only let himself relax when the automatic doors closed behind them.

“Well,” Hux said, heading toward the opposite set of doors, “that went as well as expected.”

Ben followed silently beside him, surprised when Hux took his hand and threaded their fingers together. He had never held hands with anyone before--his felt big and clumsy between Hux’s lithe ones, but it calmed him faster than anything else had after a run-in with his parents.

***

They drove in silence to Hux’s house, still holding hands, the weight of Rey’s departure hanging heavily on Ben.

When Ben entered the house immediately behind Hux, Hux set his keys in the bowl by the door, looking him up and down, expression genuinely concerned for once instead of trying to hide it. “Tell me what you need, Ben.”

Ben felt empty, in shock, exhausted. He couldn’t form a coherent thought to tell Hux what he needed, so he shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Do I get to tell you what I need then?” Hux asked, backing Ben into the door, eyes flicking to his lips.

Ben’s heart raced. This was it. It was finally happening. “I...guess?”

Hux ran a finger up Ben’s neck, to his chin. “Follow me.” Then he turned and ran up the stairs.

Ben followed him into a closet that turned out to be another staircase into the attic. When they reached the top, the sun shone into the ceiling skylights, casting dusty light over…

Sculptures. Lines of sculptures. Figures standing in Greek poses, immaculately crafted with intricate detail, but each one ruined. Bubbled over like acid had been thrown on them. Faces contorted in pain. Ben approached one and ran a hand over her slim nose, nearly melted off. She was cool to the touch despite looking like she was actively melting.

“Napalm,” he whispered in awe.

“It takes most people longer to figure that out,” Hux said. “I make them perfect, then I destroy them.”

“They’re beautiful.” Ben glanced back at Hux, who seemed taken aback by the compliment.

“Thank you,” he managed. He took a step closer to Ben, hesitant and entranced, maybe a little embarrassed. He stopped when their lips were an inch apart, eyes crossing as he mapped Ben’s face with his gaze. After a pause, Hux whispered, tentatively, “I feel the same, you know. About you.”

“You do?”

“I’ve never considered my love a gift worth giving, but if you’ll have it...”

Hux’s eyes fell to Ben’s mouth and he closed the small gap between them, pressing his lips to Ben’s, a soft brush against them.

No one had ever kissed him before.

At first, Ben didn’t know how to react, so he let Hux continue, until his brain finally caught up and he met Hux’s movements. Kissing Hux was everything he didn’t know he needed in life, thrilled that it was finally happening while simultaneously furious it hadn’t been happening this whole time.

Hux ran his tongue over the seam of Ben’s lips and parted them. Ben sighed into the motion while Hux pressed their bodies closer, carding his hands through Ben’s hair. Ben, who had spent their entire relationship thus far trying not to touch Hux at all, had no idea where his hands should even go. He settled for Hux’s hips.

Hux’s frame was so much thinner than the suits made him seem. Ben trailed his fingers to his skin; it was warmer than his cold disposition, softer than his harsh complexion. His mouth was just as demanding as always, coaxing Ben to react to him, to his slow, easy movements.

Hux pulled away, dazed, and cleared his throat. “We should…”

“Yeah, okay,” Ben said, and followed Hux back downstairs.

They took a detour into the bedroom, where Hux crowded Ben against the door and kissed him again, harder this time. He bit Ben’s lower lip and sucked it. Ben let out a low moan and sought to press his hips forward.

Hux lifted the hem of Ben’s shirt and pulled it over his head, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin of his neck, sucking and biting him, digging his nails into Ben’s back before dragging them downward.

Ben gasped, and Hux pulled him by the belt loops over to the bed, pushing him down onto it and straddling him. He pinned Ben’s wrists above his head and ground his hips down. Ben’s cock ached in his jeans, dragging against his fly. He felt Hux’s hardness too and it sent a shiver up his spine. There was so much sensation, everything so new, Ben had no choice but to let go.

“Tell me what you need, Ben,” Hux said against his throat, ragged and needy.

“Fuck me,” Ben panted, totally overwhelmed.

“Say it.”

“Fuck me, Daddy. Please.”

Hux moaned against his neck, momentarily pliant, panting ragged breaths on his skin. He shifted down Ben’s body, making quick work of removing the rest of Ben’s clothes, and followed with his own.

When he returned to Ben, lying beside him, skin slid blissfully against skin, and Ben had never felt like this before, so wanted, so wanting in return. A cap clicked somewhere while Hux was busy devouring his mouth again, and a slick finger pressed against his entrance.

“Relax,” he murmured against Ben’s neck. And Ben did. Hux’s finger slipped inside him, working him open while they kissed. Ben felt so full, a sweet burn that had him rocking his hips down against Hux’s hand.

“Ready?” Hux asked, climbing between Ben’s legs.

Ben nodded. “Please, Daddy--” The word no longer held shame; instead it felt like gospel. Nothing in life had ever made any sense to Ben, but this did--begging for harder and faster and more and all the other things in life he'd always been too afraid to ask for.

He felt the blunt head of Hux’s cock push into him, watched Hux’s eyes flutter shut, golden eyelashes fanning over freckled cheeks as the sun poured through the windows. Ben tensed momentarily as Hux sank all the way inside him.

Hux pulled out an inch and shoved back in, slowly at first as Ben adjusted to the size of him, the stretch. He sped his pace and deepened his thrusts until he fucked Ben in earnest, Ben’s legs wrapped around him, pinning Ben’s hands to the mattress again, this time with their fingers entwined.

He shifted his angle and Ben’s shout collapsed in his throat. He arched off the bed and whined for Hux to do it again. Ben’s cock slid between their stomachs, divine friction hurdling toward climax.

“Daddy,” Ben pleaded. He didn’t even know what for, just that he needed something, anything.

He felt Hux smile against his throat, pounding into him harder. Taking what he wanted, what he'd apparently been wanting from Ben this whole time but never gave himself. 

Ben could feel Hux tense above him, his movements growing erratic. The head of his cock continued brushing against Ben’s prostate; he was having trouble getting in a full breath.

“Please, Daddy,” Ben begged again. Hux moaned at the word, his cock throbbing inside of Ben. Every inch of his body screamed for release, for Hux to come in him, fill him up. Make Ben his.

“Come for me,” Hux said, strained, thrusts shallowing, sliding sweaty and slick against each other.

They kissed again, messy and breathing heavily, biting at each other’s mouths and letting out cracked groans. With one last, hard thrust, Hux came in him, and the feeling of his release sent Ben over the edge, cock pulsing come between their bodies.

Hux kissed him through it, until all the little aftershocks had ceased and they were both spent. He pulled out and collapsed beside Ben, sticky bodies tangled together as they caught their breath.

Though Hux was obviously exhausted, draped unceremoniously over Ben, Ben’s mind continued racing. There was still too much...everything. He felt sated, finally, but the dread of future loneliness continued to loom over him, the thought of going home to an empty apartment. The inevitable message he would receive early in the morning from Rey, telling him she made it home okay, reminding him she loved him. The moment when he'd have to face his parents again, and probably be more mature about it, but hopefully keep his shit together. His doctors' appointments. His finals. What he planned to do with his life after graduation. It was all too, too much.

“Daddy?” Ben asked, tentative.

Hux opened one eye and peered at him skeptically.

“Can we get take-out for dinner?”

“Sure,” Hux said, half-muffled into the mattress.

Another beat of silence passed. “Would you buy me a car if I asked for one?”

“Once you get your license, yes.”

“What about a plane?”

Hux leaned up on his elbows and looked down at Ben. His hair was messy. An errant streak of dried clay dotted somewhere below his ear. A little crinkle dented between his eyebrows as he parsed out Ben's ploy. “The company has one. If you require use of it, we can arrange that.”

Ben considered it. “Can I use it to visit Rey?”

“Emergencies, yes. Visiting, no.”

“Would you buy me tickets then? For a regular flight?”

“First class. As many and as often as you like.”

Ben waited a long moment before speaking again, heart hammering against his chest. "Last question." He licked his lips; they tasted like Hux. “Can I move in?”

Hux kissed Ben again, deep and soft and filled with everything neither of them deserved. He pulled away with a hazy smile and replied, “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging [the photoset](http://kylomend.tumblr.com/post/141005706533/honeycomb-on-ao3).
> 
> Beta'd by [ship](http://www.shiphitsthefan.tumblr.com) and [b&e](http://www.bert-and-ernie-are-gay.tumblr.com).
> 
> Check out the playlist on spotify [here](https://play.spotify.com/user/sadrobots/playlist/2R1ulNfHQH4yftRupPiPuz) or on youtube [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLB0Fx3uhFJDbXnhrBuL3vGOKgqqGgsbEG).
> 
> Or come sin with me on [tumblr](http://www.bettydays.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/betty_days).
> 
> Here is a [translation into Russian](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4223373).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Blackstrap Molasses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6669010) by [SinNotAlone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinNotAlone/pseuds/SinNotAlone)
  * [Filthy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7499907) by [Dusty_Forgotten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten)




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